


Reverent Sacrifice

by BlackReaper1984



Series: Fallen Redeemer [1]
Category: Night Huntress Series - Jeaniene Frost, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Slow Burn, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackReaper1984/pseuds/BlackReaper1984
Summary: Privilege and power breed recklessness; when combined with pure morality they form a force of nature. No amount of difficulty will keep Christine, a young sorceress from a cursed land, from destroying an injustice that has ruined the lives of a father and his daughter.She could never have predicted the tangled web woven by her own people or what it all tied back to. She also never could have foreseen what would emerge from the curse.Over fourteen years, Jefferson lost himself in it, lost his daughter to it, lost everything. In her boundless benevolence she will return what was taken and give even more.The curse was just the beginning, however, their journey’s twisted path can only darken from here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the first short novel of my fantasy series "Fallen Redeemer." This novella was written in 2014 when I first got into Once Upon a Time, and since I am continuing work on the far longer, far more complex sequel now, I will be posting it on here in preparation for that. 
> 
> This was written for fun and to develop my original character, Christine, as well as explore Jefferson's character. It was originally meant to be a Beauty and The Beast AU for the two of them, so there are references to that in the story.

Muddy water splashed up from the soaked ground and splattered against the leather pants of a young woman walking through a thick forest. Large droplets of rain pelted the trees and filtered through their leaves to saturate the dark cloak that hid her hair and face. Beneath the heavy fabric was a mass of curly black hair, a pair of large, bright green eyes, beneath thick, dark brows, a wide, sloping nose, and plump lips framed by a diamond-shaped face. It was cold, but she paid the elements no mind as she pressed forward, squinting through the sheet of rain at what she could see was the edge of the forest.

Beyond the border was her destination, the castle carved into the mountain side ahead. Accessible only by a single steep winding path up the mountain, its sharp edges and points cast eerie shadows in the darkness of the dense clouds. Its tall walls and soaring towers seemed to be cut straight from the night sky and, as its visitor drew closer, it shone with raindrops that glistened like stars. The clean sleekness of it was not of the land in resided in. For fourteen years it had stood, glaring down at all who gazed upon its formidable facade. None had yet dared enter until that evening.

The new visitor was not at all afraid of what stood before her. She had yet to experience real fear. Being as powerful as she was and living a sheltered life for her first eighteen years meant that few things had the power to intimidate her. It wasn't just her recklessness that drove her to enter, however. She was a child of magic; it flowed through her as much as blood would and she knew when she had encountered magic that was familiar. The castle was encased in an invisible barrier that she could sense as she neared it. As she passed through, the barrier’s magic shot a bolt of energy through her. The crescent moon necklace around her neck glowed bright violet, and a sheild flashed in front of her at the contact. She knew the origins of the magic there were close to her own. The familiarity should have comforted her after having to learn the strange ways of the other kingdoms, but instead a knot began to form in the pit of her stomach.

The castle's front entrance dwarfed her. Up close, it seemed that the material it derived from was some sort of pure mineral that absorbed all of the light around it. One could see that there were in fact two doors, but there were no handles with which to open them. She stepped forward and pushed at them, finding that they both slowly slid open with little effort needed. Upon entering, she found that the interior drastically contrasted the exterior.

Inside were polished black marble floors, with columns of the same stone holding up the high ceilings. A long rug of luxurious velvet led to the first grand staircase, ornate railings of white gold on either side. There wasn't much light inside, so as she ventured deeper, she held up her hand in front of her, palm up. White light glowed ahead of her and the large doors slid shut behind her when she turned down one of the wide hallways. Large, detailed paintings of fantastical lands hung on the walls and the many doors in each hall she walked through were made of a dark wood and decorated with carvings of strange figures around their edges.

The design inside was appropriate for the Enchanted Forest mainland, the cold ornateness of it all resembling the castles she had seen in kingdoms like Camelot. The complete lifelessness of the polished stone and carved decorations were so alien to her even now after spending years away from home. Distracted by her surroundings, the girl didn't notice the light pitter-patter of paws as she continued deeper into the castle, nor did she notice the distant ticking of a watch until she came to a room with a lit fire and a few large chairs. It appeared that the rumors may have been true; someone certainly lived in there.

"Excuse me madam, but, what are you doing here?" A nervous voice asked from behind her as she examined one of the chairs.

She whirled around, her light bursting with sudden intensity until she looked down and saw a white rabbit in a waistcoat scrambling for cover. The light died and she straightened, her hood now fallen to her shoulders. "Forgive me for intruding, sir," she apologized. "I am a traveler and I came across this castle while walking in the forest.” Her words were colored with a slight accent that she yet to shake when she spoke the mainland tongue he used with her.

Regaining his composure, the rabbit looked up with concern. "Oh of course! You're soaked to the bone, dear girl!" He walked to the fire, gesturing for her to follow. "You absolutely must come and get warm. What were you doing out there in this weather?"

As she sat before the flames, she caught a wisp of purple smoke out of the corner of her eye. Upon looking at it, she saw a black large cat floating lazily in the air. It was striped in shades of blue with large and vibrant green eyes. It floated over to her and the rabbit with a toothy grin stretching across its face. "Perhaps she was looking for trouble. She seems like the type, don't you think?" Its voice was deep like a grown man's and its words were drawn out far more than was normal.

She looked up at it curiously, an almost defiant pout on her face. "Excuse me. I heard rumors about this place and sought to find it and look!" she swept her arm in a gesture that encompassed the room,"I did."

The rabbit's nose twitched and he shifted anxiously. "Are you quite sure about that, dear? This isn't somewhere you want to stay."

"And why is that?" asked the cat.

The rabbit considered it with squinted eyes then turned to their visitor, "This castle is cursed, you see. It's been this way for fourteen years."

"I figured that. The magical hold on this place is very strong."

"You know of magic, child?" the cat said.

"I do, sir. Although I suppose I should introduce myself first. I am Christine, a native of Kartonoch," she bowed her head respectfully to them.

The eyes of both widened and the rabbit shifted again, its nose twitching more,"A Cainanite? That's..That is.."

"-Exactly what we need." The cat cut the rabbit off. "How wonderful it is that you have come."

She had been forced to grown accustomed to nervous or blatantly fearful reactions to her origins since beginning her travels years earlier and so no longer found it necessary to try and amend anything right away. She leaned forward, meeting their eyes,"Tell me, what is the truth of this place?"

The rabbit straightened his waistcoat and sat on the floor. “It’s a long story.”

She shrugged and leaned back in the chair, legs crossed and posture perfect,"I have nowhere else to be.”

“Oh get on with it.” said the cat as it rested its chin on its paws, hovering above the floor by Christine's shoulder.

The rabbit huffed and began. “It started with a man who thought he could steal from a powerful race. But he was caught and given a choice that ruined his life. They offered him the choice of either death or exile. He did not want to die of course so he chose exile. They built this castle to trap him and put a barrier around it to ensure he never escaped. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they cursed him to somehow forget who he was and what magic he had. ‘On the dawn of the fifteenth year of your exile, the curse will remain until the end of time unless it is broken by a being powerful enough.’ they said to him. And so it has been for fourteen years. The poor man’s gone completely mad and no one has ever come here to do anything about all of this before you, dear.”

Christine frowned, “They thought that was an acceptable consequence? How unfair!” She stood.

“Do you intend to do anything about it?” Asked the cat, remaining where it had been and looking up at her.

She clenched her fists. “Yes I do. Is there anything in here that can be used for spells?”

The rabbit got back on his feet. “We do, but now is not the time for that.”

“Why not?! There isn’t much time left!”

The rabbit trembled slightly. “Please calm down. We have months before the final day and you’re still soaked.”

In her anger, the girl’s eyes had begun to glow green, something that happened to all members of her race when becoming very emotional. She saw the rabbit was afraid, however, and the tension melted out of her. She took a deep breath. “I suppose so. I am sorry for scaring you, but I hate the sort of thing. People should not be made to suffer so greatly for minor offenses. It is not right.”

“That may be so, but we are still here. Come with me and we will get you something to eat. You must be famished.” the rabbit said, hopping to the door.

Christine followed, glancing at the wet spot on the rug her cloak had made. With a wave of her hand it was gone along with the water on her cloak. “Pardon me but what do you two want me to call you?”

“I am the Cheshire Cat, child. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said the cat, taking her hand in both of its paws and shaking it.

“You may call me Mr.Rabbit.”

“He won’t do anything if you don’t, though. It’s quite fun to make him angry.”

The rabbit prickled at that but did not comment.

They made their way to the large kitchen. The three made tea to drink and Christine ate tea cakes once it was finished. Not much was said and the two hosts watched their guest mull over what she was told. She was still visibly distressed and neither wanted to rouse her anger again.

When the tea was finished, they cleaned up and brought her to a spacious bedroom past the center of the castle and down a long hallway. The bed was massive with thick blankets and large fluffy pillows piled on it. Tied to its four posts with satin rope were velvet curtains. On the floor there were several rugs with different designs that didn’t quite match and in the corner closest to the window there was a sitting area. What appeared to be crystal clear glass panels made up an entire wall, but nothing appeared to connect them. She looked to the other side and saw the large doors of a closet and another for a washroom. Beside the dresser was a vanity that whined and cracked with disuse. It was the only thing in the room that looked neglected.

She stepped in and regarded it all with interest. Even though nothing in the room seemed to really match anything else, it was so luxurious that she could not help but turn to her hosts with a smile,"Thank you very much. This is a beautiful room.” She had grown up with far more than this, but such accommodations had been scarce in her treks between kingdoms.

The Cheshire Cat grinned at her, its mouth stretching far further than any human's would. “Isn’t it? This is one of the nicer ones, I’m sure you’ll sleep very well.”

“If you should find yourself needing anything at all ring the bell on the night table and someone will come to your aid. Goodnight!” Mr.Rabbit said hurriedly before hopping down the hall.

“Goodnight, dear.” Cheshire lingered in its place for a moment before slowly fading into purple smoke that dissipated seconds after it was no longer visible.

Christine closed her door and looked around the room. She didn’t feel like anything was dangerous but the magic around the castle was most definitely present inside of it. Knowing the truth after hearing rumors for so long did upset her; she knew all of this was wrong and she felt obliged to help the castle’s residents. She had a feeling that there was more to the curse than the two creatures were aware of.

She removed her cloak and draped it across the one of the chairs in the sitting area, set her ever-present satchel on the same chair, and walked to the vanity. She swiped her hand and the dust was removed, floating into the air and disappearing. She took stock of herself in the large mirror. With curly black hair that formed a dense cloud around her head, dark brown skin that was peppered with hardly visible freckles across her nose and barely rounded cheeks, an ample chest, wide shoulders and hips above long legs that were growing weary, she was proud of her beauty. She could see that her dark purple shirt and black leather pants were not damaged in the forest and she bore no scars from the magic of the barrier. She allowed herself a small smile and looked through the dresser for a nightgown. She found one long enough for her tall frame and changed into it, removing everything except for the necklace she always wore. The exhaustion from her journey quickly dragged her into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sees more references to the movie and, more exciting, Jefferson's debut! They get off to a rocky start, but things will be picking up from here. Enjoy!

Christine woke gradually, the fog of sleep still hanging over her, and sat up with a yawn. She felt more rested than she had in a while. Over the last four years of her travels, sleeping in strange lands had taken a toll on her. She rose and changed into her clothes and brown boots then brushed her hair out. Glancing out the window she saw that the rain had not stopped. It actually seemed to have grown in intensity with lightning illuminating the mountain side and forest below the castle. Oddly enough, no thunder or rain could be heard from inside. Christine didn’t care much for the fact and got her satchel, leaving the room. She walked down the hall, pausing every few moments to have a closer look at a few of the paintings that adorned the walls. 

One of them was of another castle. It was all white and red, with heart shapes built into the structure of its arches, windows and doors. Its lines were curved, graceful and ended in intimidating points. It had more sections and rooms than she could count, yet for all of its odd beauty, it seemed so out of place given its location. The land around it was barren, grey, and rocky. Whatever had happened there, everything had been destroyed and yet that massive palace remained.  
As she continued to the kitchen, she found herself pondering the strangeness of the place she was in. It was still so dark and when she cast a light for comfort, her inhuman eyes easily picking up what was around her, the walls themselves seemed to grow darker to make up for it. It was quiet as well. Too quiet. She could barely hear the sound of her own footsteps when walking down the seemingly infinite halls.

Upon arriving at the kitchen, her focus changed to finding food. The kitchen was large with two stoves, three ovens, and a pantry that went from the white marble floor to the high tiled ceiling. Everything was white and had the same odd texture that appeared similar to marble but didn’t shine when polished. It all looked quite strange. She reached over one of the countertops and grasped a silver handle, opening a cabinet. Out of it tumbled dozens of plates and cups that shattered on the floor with a loud crash. She leapt back and winced at the sight of the broken porcelain. Looking around to see if anyone had caught her, she stared at the pile, watching as the pieces gathered and fused together to form their original glassware. They settled on the counter and she looked at the other cabinets, all of them opening as she caught their contents before they could break as well. With everything closed, the kitchen appeared spotless. Once the cabinets were opened, however, it was obvious that it was in a state of considerable disarray.

Christine couldn’t stand the thought of all that mess and set about the new minor task of cleaning and organizing the kitchen. She filled a large basin with water and found soap. She mixed them and extended her power to the used cups, pots, and utensils. A rag washed them in the basin before a towel dried them off and they floated to their proper place. While all of this went on, she looked through the pantry and found a cake. In fact, all she could find were jars of tea leaves, cakes, cookies, and biscuits. She didn’t mind though, and cut herself a slice that she ate with her hands.  
When the kitchen was in order she smiled to herself and turned to leave. She froze when she saw that she had unexpected company. In the doorway was a large brown rabbit. It stood up on two legs like a human and was dressed in ragged clothes that were a bit too large for it. Its fur was matted and and stuck out in places. Its yellow eyes were large enough to bulge out of its head, and its ears twitched and drooped. It regarded her with curiosity and spoke in a heavily accented voice that cracked, “You’re the magic girl ain’t ya? What’re you doin’ in here?”  
“I was cleaning the kitchen,” she said, walking toward it.  
It flinched and one of its pupils dilated. “What?! Cleaning?! No, no, no there’ll be none of that cleaning here!” It ran past her to one of the cabinets and swept the cups on the bottom shelf onto the floor, laughing as they shattered at its feet.  
She watched it for a moment then ducked when another cup was hurled at her. “I say! What in the world are you doing?!” A voice from below her spoke.

“I do not know Mr.Rabbit, but it..he," she hesitantly said," seems upset.”  
The White Rabbit looked up at her. “He isn’t upset, dear. He’s completely mad and making a mess of my kitchen!” He hopped toward the large rabbit now cackling on the floor. “Get up at once! You are cleaning up this mess!”  
“No cleaning! None of that! You’re all late for tea!” The large rabbit hopped up to his feet. “Tea time!” He ran out of the room and down the hall.  
Christine watched him go and cast a puzzled look to Mr.Rabbit.  
“That was the Brown Rabbit, and no, we are not at all related,” he said by means of explanation.  
“Does anyone else live here?” she asked, walking down the hall with him.  
“Well there are a few others but you won’t see them as much. Let me show you around, dear.” He hopped ahead of her.  
There were four wings to the castle, each one branching out into its own towers and floors. The more they walked, the more Christine saw the inside did not match the outside in the slightest. In the sharp, obelisk-shaped towers she had seen before there was no space for all of these rooms and halls. In addition, her presence affected the halls and rooms around her as she progressed. Using a light to see better caused the walls to darken and at times the ceiling and walls looked as though they were growing closer to her. She couldn’t be sure, but it was unnerving. She was shown the North, South, and East wings before the White Rabbit brought her back to the entrance area.  
“Do you have any more questions, dear?” he asked.

“Just one. Is there a West Wing opposite the East one?”  
He adjusted his waistcoat and nodded, his ears twitching nervously. “Yes there is, but you shouldn’t go in there. That’s where the cursed man is and he doesn’t like guests in his wing.”  
“Are you sure? I would very much like to meet him. He could be the key to breaking this curse.”  
Mr.Rabbit shook his head. “No, no, no, that won’t do at all. Don’t you even think about going over there.”

She shuffled her feet then shrugged. “Alright, I will not. Thank you very much, Mr. Rabbit.” She walked toward her room which she knew now was in the North Wing. She’d seen an entrance to a tower that the rabbit hadn’t shown her and was curious to find what was there. She ran down the hall to save time and came to a stone staircase tucked into a gap between one of the hallway walls and a wall with a window that was still being pelted with rain. She looked up and saw it was pitch black inside. She could see that the walls of it as well as the stairs themselves were made of what looked like normal stone. She slowly walked up the first few and quickly realized something was very wrong. The darkness didn’t just impede her ability to see, it was suffocating. She summoned a white light brighter than her pendant's glow and stared as the blackness her light fought off seeped into the stony walls, making them match the castle’s exterior material. She ran up the steps, looking back to see the darkness filling in behind her. It wanted to swallow her completely.  
She had no idea how long she was running up those seemingly endless steps. When she reached the top she fell flat on her face and her light burst, filling the room she was in and forcing the walls to absorb the blackness completely. She quickly rose to her feet and looked around, searching for a beast of some kind to fight but she found nothing. The energy surrounding her felt far more threatening than what she had sensed elsewhere and outside. Upon further inspection of the room, she found nothing but another window that gazed out at the forest beyond the valley encircling the mountain.  
She ran back down the steps, an orb of light in front of her. As soon as she was out she fell to knees on the rug in the hall. “By the gods. What was that!?” she said to herself. When her panic subsided, she stood and looked out the window. It was night time already and she could feel that the castle had settled; it was unlikely that anyone was awake.

Turning around, she ran down the North Wing main hall and to where she knew was the West Wing. She didn't care about the sound her stocking-covered feet made, sound still didn't travel well inside. The first thing she noticed at the entrance was that the floors were different colors. The rest of the castle had black marble floors that matched the walls. In this new wing, the floors were made up of small white and and red tiles. The walls were white and the further in she walked, the more dilapidated the whole place looked. The paintings were torn and smashed on the floor and the rugs were torn up, their pieces scattered everywhere. Side tables were overturned and she could see the remains of a vase and bouquet of dead flowers next to a broken one. More than one door was kicked in to the point of dangling on a single hinge and the occasional lightning flash revealed the rooms behind them were completely destroyed.  
As she continued deeper, she caught the sound of someone talking in the room at the end of the hall. She ran to the large double doors and turned both handles, pushing them open. Her eyes widened at what was inside.  
Piled from the floor to the impossibly high ceiling were hats. Of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Strewn across the floor were pieces of fabric, thread, ribbon, and stray needles. She stepped inside and saw that the room was massive, the size of a ballroom. There were no visible windows, so torches and candles provided light. As she stepped further in, a frustrated shout of,“Why won’t it work?!” demanded that she turn her attention to the sole occupant of the wing.

Atop his head was a brown, misshapen top hat. Large pins were stuck into the sides of it and a yellow ribbon was wrapped haphazardly around it. His brown hair was frayed and matted and stuck out every which way. Wrapped around his neck was a bulky scarf that bunched up to his jaw. A patchy vest covered his worn orange and brown shirt. Black leather pants speckled with some unknown liquid covered his legs and his boots were ragged, almost falling apart.

“Get it to work. Get it to work. One more and it will work,” he repeated over and over to himself as he shoved a needle through the black bowler hat he was making. When it looked about done, he examined it and rubbed his hand around the inside. He cursed and threw it, then grabbed more fabric to set about making another.

Christine stepped forward slowly, squinting at the man. He looked vaguely familiar to her. He had colorful eyes and dark eyebrows partially hidden by cracked wire-frame glasses, a straight nose and deep hollows where his cheekbones were, very pink lips that were cracked and reddened by abuse from his teeth, and stubble on his straight jaw. She could feel as she drew closer that he had a spark of magic in him. It was small, but it had been powerful once. “...Excuse me, sir?” she said, now a few feet away from him.  
He flinched at the sound of her voice and pricked himself with the needle he was working with. A drop of blood began to bead and he clamped his hand over it, freezing in place, eyes wide and staring at the floor by her feet.  
“Hello?” she said a bit louder, her face pinching with concern. This man was further gone than she thought he would be. She could feel anger beginning to bubble up inside of her at how wrong it all was, but rage wouldn’t help anything. She needed to stay in control.

He responded this time by blinking twice and looking up then scrambling back. “I can’t make it work!” he shouted, “I can’t! No one can!” His heart was pounding and his racing blood roared in her ears. The scent of fear, distress, and fury surrounded him.

She knelt down to be at his level on the floor. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help you.”  
He met her eyes and for a split second, she could see a million different emotions swamping him. Desperation, terror, despair, rage, sorrow, anguish, and bitterness all mixed together into an unspeakable brew that could hardly be reduced to a mere onset of madness. “I can’t go back to who I was yesterday because I was a different person then!” he yelled, his eyes prickling with tears. “There’s no more time!” his voice cracked,“There’s never enough time..” He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his head.  
Suddenly it clicked. He was the thief from her childhood. The man she had caught in the vaults of the capital city's federal building back home. The one who had convinced her to help him escape and was caught by her mentor. She snapped her fingers, trying to remember his name then blurted,“Jefferson! I remember you!”  
The name got his head to snap up and his hands began to shake. “No, no, I can’t go back to yesterday..I was a different person!” he repeated what he’d said earlier and stood. “You can’t remember who I’m not!” His eyes darted around to the piles of hats then back to her. His eyes watered again and a bitter, heartbroken smile slowly grew on his face before he brokenly said,“You’re late.” He stepped closer to her and said louder,“You’re very, very late.” He laughed breathlessly and his voice got louder,“You’re late and there’s no more time! No more time!!” He advanced on her, repeating about how late she was and how little time was left before slamming the doors of the room shut as soon as she backed out of their way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all about Christine and Jefferson on their own. Some details of her upbringing and powers are revealed while she works on breaking this curse. She is not about to allow it to run its course without a fight. He decides to try and stand up for himself again now that she is in the castle.
> 
> A short, character-building filler chapter. Enjoy!

Christine stared at the large double doors in shock. This curse, this whole situation was far worse than she had originally thought. Perhaps it was naive of her to think that it would be easy, but she hadn't expected that much damage to have already been done. She turned back down the hall she had originally come from and saw a wall where one had not been before. It cut the long hallway in half and opened up to another hall. She frowned and walked to it, pushing at it; it was solid and real. She looked down the new hall and saw the same damage had been caused to it as the rest of the wing she'd seen before despite it apparently being brand new. She stepped over the shattered vases and broken frames to a door at the end of the hall. She opened it and entered a sitting room with the table overturned and chairs lying in pieces everywhere. Feathers covered parts of the floor and she identified them as what had once been the insides of the chair cushions. She walked through to another door she could see on the left wall and came to another hall. It was all very disorienting, and after passing through room after room and running down hall after hall, she began to grow frustrated. The shifting of the area seemed so random and meaningless it was nearly impossible to discern a pattern that would allow her escape.

After a long while of making arbitrary twists and turns, she finally found herself at the entrance of the West Wing. Smiling in relief, she walked toward the kitchen. On her way there, she passed the entrance to another tower the rabbit had not gone into in his tour of the palace. She looked at the entrance to it and cracked her fingers as she debated whether or not to risk encountering the dark magic of the other tower she had ventured into a second time. She deemed finding out more about her current location important enough to take the chance.

She walked up the winding stone steps and lit a torch she found in a holder embedded in the wall. To her surprise, she found not another empty room, but instead she was met with books. Hundreds of books lined the chipped stone walls of the tower. There must have been thirty or more shelves piled one atop the other that rose up to the dark ceiling of the tower. Rows and rows of them spanned across the damp, moss-grown floor. The magic there was just as powerful as in the empty tower but it was of a different breed entirely. These were all spell books. Exactly what she needed! She recalled the rabbit having said that if someone powerful enough came then the curse could be broken. Surely she was powerful enough. With all of these spells and resources at her disposal success should be guaranteed! She walked further in and saw that the books varied in condition. Some appeared to have never been touched while others were falling apart at the seams. The large table in the center had dozens of open books piled onto it, some pages were empty to show that the spells had already been used up. Perhaps the Hatter she had seen in that room had tried to break the curse himself but was unable. Regardless, she knew she had work to do and set about scanning the spines of the books, searching for something that she could use.

 

Running out of time..Can't get it to work..If I don't she'll die..no more time..So late..Too late.. The Hatter shoved his needle through the purple velvet he was making a new hat out of. He'd tried every style he knew and every fabric that was available but none of them worked. He couldn't stop, however, if he did that would mean giving up, and giving up meant an eternity in this hell. But what did it matter if he kept trying anyway? He knew the end was coming and yet he pressed on. Repeating the same maddening process over and over and over again, reaping no results every single time. Perhaps being trapped wouldn't be so bad if he knew where his daughter was. He knew the sorcerers hadn't killed her, they couldn't have killed her. She'd done nothing wrong. She had to be alive. He had to get to her. Had to make it work. Get it to work, get it to work, one more try and it had to work.

His needle slipped and cut into his hand again but he didn't notice until a drop of blood fell to the floor where he was sitting. He yelped and threw the unfinished hat at the others, dislodging his cracked glasses in the process. Blood couldn't get on them or else they might not work. He gripped his finger, stopping the blood. He remained still after that for hours, unable to move at all while his mind shrieked at him. He was sure he'd done the exact same thing yesterday. How long ago was that? How long had he been sitting? When did all of these hats pile up? Who was the girl that said she knew him? Who was he? Who had he been before?  
His trance was broken by a surge of magical energy passing through the castle. His eyes grew wide and he bolted to his feet. There was no magic left. How could there be magic? Was it the girl? He scrambled to the looking glass on the wall of the room and gripped its sides. "Show her to me," he demanded, trying not to stare into his own reflection. Peeking out from behind his scarf was a line of raised red skin that ran from the bottom of his throat around back to the base of his head. It was yet another reminder of the horrible mistakes he had made that put him there in the first place.

A swirling fog covered its glassy surface and pulled back to reveal her in the library of spells, books neatly laid out on the table. She had also arranged strange plants and bottles on the table, looking through them every once in a while. Some were open and some weren't but she had chosen ones different from those he had tried to use years ago. He watched her purse her full lips and pick a closed one up, leafing through it with a determined look on her previously sweet face. He slid down to the floor and sat, watching her as she recited spell after spell, the words floating up off their pages and bursting into the air. Each new spell sent a ripple through the entire palace and slowly she wore down, tired and unable to continue. Such was always the way with magic. No matter how powerful the user, there is always a price.

"Follow her," he said to the mirror and it did, her back visible to him as she walked down the tower's steps and into the East Wing. He watched her walk to the kitchen, then looked at the door barely visible through the mounds of failed hats. "Enough," he said to the mirror and all at once, she disappeared from it. He rose on shaky feet and opened the door, walking out into the halls. Leaving his hats made him feel uneasy. No matter how aggravating each new failure was, his hats, regardless of how maddening they were, were also familiar. They were what he was used to. They were just as much proof of his conviction as they were of his failure. He turned down the hall and took a few gingerly steps down the hallway leading to the East Wing. His eyes darted to the walls on either side of him as he anticipated their advancement. When nothing happened, he ran forward, racing to the opening. He blinked and a wall appeared, blocking his way. He slammed into it and hit the floor with a thud. Wincing, he stood and pounded the wall with his fist. "No!!" He turned down the new hall and ducked into a side room, passing through to another hall. After having escaped the wing many times in search of his daughter, he could predict the patterns of the new halls and rooms. He broke into a run and a grin spread across his face when he finally crossed the threshold out of the West Wing. He fell to his knees, panting with the effort of running so much so suddenly. Once he caught his breath, he stood and made his way to the spells library.

Once there, he went to the table and looked at the books the visitor had used. His brow furrowed when he found that he couldn't read the language in the books. Somewhere in the back of his mind roared the thought that he should be able to. He had been able to. The person he used to be would know this. But how could he be someone he wasn't? Even if he had been, he wouldn't be anymore.

He flipped through more pages, getting more and more frustrated with his inability to comprehend what he was seeing. He slammed the book shut and tossed it toward the middle of the table. He walked to one of the tall shelves lining a wall and plucked a worn green book from it. He flipped through and was just as puzzled by its contents as the others he'd just looked at. He placed it on the table and picked out another, nothing changed. A stack of books began to grow on on the table as he flipped through book after book, still unable to read anything. Disheartened and angry, he trudged back to his his hats in the dark. Perhaps one more try would get it to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson and Christine cross paths again, and they still aren't getting along. Christine will not be deterred, but breaking this curse isn't getting any easier.

Several days of Christine spending hours in the spells room had passed and she was growing increasingly frustrated with her lack of progress. She was using light magic spells that repelled darkness and containment, but they had yet to change the energy inside or weaken the barrier. She tried the books that the Hatter had left out and even copied some of the spells into her journal to see if she could alter them in any way. She had searched high and low among the shelves for books with ties to her homeland's magic but couldn’t find any, so she had resorted to what she knew. She prayed to Aslemai, the God of light, for help and protection every morning when she woke and before every spell. She prayed to their partner, Catarr, the God of Darkness, before bed every night as well. She carefully read the journal she kept her spells in and used what ingredients she had preserved in her satchel. She found that the kitchen had good bowls and utensils for crushing flower petals and chopping bark for her to use as well.

After another fruitless afternoon, she looked out at the setting sun as it cast brilliant colors across the sky, and wished that she could go out and bask in its glow without fearing that she would not be able to get back. The rain had stopped a few days prior and there was a lot more light coming into some rooms in the castle. At least that made being stuck inside slightly more bearable.  
She remembered her incident in the North Tower and shuddered, recalling how malicious the energy that had surrounded her was. The feeling of malice was present throughout the castle and really the mountain as well, but not in nearly the same concentration. The West Wing had felt similar. It was as if the building itself sought to cause harm. It made her feel uneasy but not quite scared; she was deeply concerned for the residents trapped there. Keeping them contained in this luxurious prison couldn't be all that the curse would do once it was complete. There had to be something more. Something worse that would befall them, or the most damaged victim.  
Turning around, she began searching again, this time for another type of book. If there were spells then surely there were some with information regarding forms of magic and curses that could be created. She tried remembering more about the actual room that was at the top of the tower and scoured her memory for any clues that may help her find out the origins of the magic being used. Perhaps she could alter something or break it without spells or break it somehow.

Then, clear as if she was looking at it at that very moment, she saw a symbol in her mind's eye. It had appeared carved into the floor of the room after the darkness fled into the walls. It was a star pointing south made of five lines. A rose grew out of its two top points and thorns emerged from them and the outer sides. Her attention shifted from finding her native magic to finding the symbol somewhere in the books surrounding her. She knew it was the lesser known symbol of a God, and she knew which one, but she had to be positive.

By the time she found the symbol and cheered to herself in triumph, it was far past sunset. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall where she'd plucked the ancient and dusty book from a top shelf. She had blown the dust off of it and opened to the page where she'd found the symbol. It read that what she had found was the sign of Catarr, the Kartian god of darkness and the partner of the god she had been practicing with most of her life, Aslemai. A sick feeling began to churn in her stomach and she swallowed hard. 

Her suspicions that the curse was indeed the fault of her people were irrefutably confirmed. She heard the tiniest doubt trickle into her mind, hissing to her that perhaps she wouldn't be able to help. Perhaps she was running into a battle that she would lose. She shook her head, clearing it of such ideas. She was strong, she was powerful, she could not allow such wrongs to be committed by her people without redemption. With what humans and mainlanders already thought of them, they couldn't afford it. And that was without how terrible it was to be using a God's power for such pettiness. None of the victims tormented by this deserved what they had been put through. With new resolve, she rose with the book in her hand.

 

The Hatter did not, no, could not remember why he kept going back to the same room over and over again. In the South Wing of the castle was a furnished bedroom that was different from the others. It's design was not mismatched or warped. It was pretty. Pretty enough for the prettier girl that liked to dance around in his foggy mind, calling him with a distant voice, and making him cry every time a hat didn't work. He was drawn to her. Sometimes he would try to chase her, but she was always too far away. Sometimes thinking about her for too long made his head hurt. Sometimes she placed a dreamy film over the nightmares he always had and made him feel like he was happy once.

He came to the room, her room, all the time to sit among the stuffed animals, soft pastel colors, and many, many teacups that he somehow knew she had painted herself. They were pretty too, with delicate brush strokes forming little flowers, words or swirls that he never wanted to tarnish with real tea. He liked to look at them, but his hands shook too much for him to hold them. He liked to pile stuffed animals and sit against the large bed with its lacy bedding and thick blankets and sleep, hoping that her ghost would bless his dreams so he wouldn't have to wake up in terror like he usually did.

He didn't like to stay in her room long, however, he felt like he tarnished the beauty of it all. He wasn't the right person to be in there. When he was there for too long, he got antsy. He wanted to leave more. He wanted, no, needed to find her. That was when the hat called him.

Before he left, he went to the pretty blue morning glory by the window and kissed the glass that covered it.

 

Christine cleared the table of everything except the books and scrolls she deemed relevant then left them open for later on. Giving one last look around, she spotted a gap between two bookshelves in the corner that she had not noticed before. She walked over to it and saw that the stones didn't quite line up. She scoffed, how obvious could a secret passage be?  
Running her fingers over the crease in the stone, she reached forward with her power and tried to pry the door open with her fingers and then with a dagger from her satchel. She couldn't and turned away, searching for a button or lever or some means of opening it another way. She was all too familiar with secret passageways, as her family's homes had many. There was always some sort of mechanism that would open it. A lever somewhere, a button in the wall or a loose brick. Even pressure plates could be used. She tugged books off of their shelves and each time nothing happened. She returned to the door and looked it over slowly, crossing her arm in front of her waist and resting her elbow on it. She stroked the left side of her head and her brows furrowed. There had to be some way to get it open. She raised her hand and brought forth a light, leaning forward to see the creases in the stone better. Her eyes widened when she saw that in the tiny gaps between the stone of the door and that of the rest of the tower, there was the same material as the outside of the castle. The darkness she had encountered before was no doubt there as well but she knew how to fight it off. She made her light smaller and watched it float to the crease and slip inside. The little bit that seeped out was dim but still visible and she breathed in, closing her eyes and willing it to grow and brighten until she had to shield her eyes from the rays coming from behind the door. She let it burst and the door lazily slid open. She made another light and walked inside.

The tunnel was dark, but not pitch black with the darkness now confined in the walls. Every inch of the walls, floor, and ceiling were spotless and perfectly smooth. Her boots didn't slip or slide as she walked further in, looking around for any changes. When she came to a staircase, she hovered above them, expecting a trap of some kind or a slipperier surface. When she came to the bottom, she was faced with five separate tunnels branching out of a circular room. She looked at each of them and found that the one furthest to the left had the faintest trace of a magical trail. One unlike any she had encountered before. Intrigued and elated to have found something new, she followed it deeper into the dark belly of the mountain. As she walked, she noted that the inside of the tunnel bore no markings or means of identifying where one was. For all she knew she could be walking in a massive circle or the tunnel could be twisting and turning without her knowledge. She looked behind her and couldn't see the end of the tunnel at all. I probably just walked too far, she thought, and continued.

Eventually, she saw ahead of her that the tunnel ended in a room. She ran to it and gave gave a quick look around. There were four walls, one of them opening in an arch to allow access to the tunnel she had come from. She could not see a ceiling even when she sent up her light to see higher. The room was at the bottom of a deep hole. The floor and walls were both made of the same strange material as the castle's outside, and in the center of the floor she saw Catarr's sign etched into the dark mineral. On top of the sign, was a glass end table that had a single black top hat on top. A wide violet-colored satin ribbon was wrapped around the middle of it and a swirling pattern was imprinted in the same color, sticking out against the background of black velvet. It was a lot larger than any hat she'd seen anyone wearing before, and she could feel it most definitely had magic. The energy around it felt like it was being drawn into it by a vortex. She reached out and picked it up, turning it over and finding that the inside was lined with pink silk. The bottom was completely black. She reached in and rubbed the inside and bottom, squinting at it. What was it for? She held it up and looked into it again.

"No, no, no you can't touch that!!" A panicked voice from behind her made her whip around, gripping the rim of it. "Put it down now! You can't touch it!" repeated the Hatter she'd met a few days prior.

She quickly placed it on the table again, the inside facing up, and stepped back from it.

He ran forward and grabbed it, quickly rubbing the silk and black bottom, assessing something. He carefully put it down as it had been before and some tension visibly left him. He looked from the hat to her. "You can be in here, this isn't yours," he said, sounding like he was scolding her.

She glanced at it. "Who's is it then?" She met his eyes. "Yours?"

His shoulders tensed again and he took a step back, eyes darting to the floor. "It's not mine. It belongs to someone and you can't touch it. It won't work," he trailed off, mumbling something she couldn't hear.

"Are you sure it won't? It must have been yours once, Jefferson-"

His head flicked up again and he eyed her warily as she spoke.

"-Maybe if I helped you we could do something." 

He began shaking his head. "No..." He closed his eyes tightly, putting a hand to his head. "No, no, no.." He muttered over and over.

"What could be the harm in trying one more time? There has to be a way we can make this work. Jefferson please.” She took a step forward and moved to reach for him.

He jerked away from her. “No! You can’t be here! You’re late and there’s no more time!” He shook his head again and tears slipped down his cheeks. He dropped his gaze to the floor by her feet. When he could choke out words, he could only softly say,“It’s too late..I’m gone now..All gone..I can’t happen anymore..I can’t..”

“How can you know that? Maybe if we work together we can-..” She stopped talking when she saw that his tears hadn’t stopped but he was laughing. He was shaking and holding his sides, a grin spread across his face as he giggled. “Jefferson?” She stepped closer to him again.

His head snapped up and his eyes blazed at her. “Leave!!” he shouted. His tears still hadn’t stopped but his voice was filled with fire. “You can’t make it work! No one can!”

She stumbled back and turned, running into the tunnel. She stopped after several yards and leaned against the smooth wall. She slammed her fist against the wall behind her. “Dammit!” She sighed and began to walk back the way she came. Apparently every bit of progress she thought she was making did no real good. She wished that she could ask for help, that she could bring someone who would know better to the godforsaken mountain with her. Her father would know what to do. Her mentor would know what to do.

In the dark room, the Hatter slumped against the wall and let his legs fall out from under him. He gripped his head, tugging hard at his matted hair. His eyes squeezed shut and he tried to beg for silence but he could not find his voice. Gods, but it was crowded in there. In the very back of his mind, someone was trying to speak to him but they were so far away. He’d chased them before but he could never catch up. Everything was all wrong and he knew it. He had gotten it to work once. He had been someone else. Why wouldn’t they come now? He knew they were there. He was so alone and it was still so crowded.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this short chapter, things begin to shift. Jefferson is beginning to listen to Christine and she is even more hellbent on freeing him. She tries more spells and goes to him yet again.

Now even more determined than before to destroy this curse's hold on the castle, and the Hatter in particular, Christine put herself to work again. She remembered that Jefferson had been an infamous portal jumper. Despite him being gone for a decade an a half, his legends were still all over the mainland kingdoms and she had heard much about him in taverns. His hat was his way of moving between magical realms.

She searched for books on the topic and quickly figured out that his mountain of hats were his failed attempts at making another magical one to get him out of this horrid place. She read about portal magic and found that if the portal itself was made weak then travel was impossible. Barriers, however, would not impede one.

His magic and that of the hat had been growing weaker and weaker for seventeen years, no wonder he couldn't get out. The hat needed a boost of some kind. One of the books spoke about magical objects being tied to their owners. The magic he and the hat had were connected. She smiled to herself as she took down notes and thought that she could finally be moving in the right direction.

Next, she looked for information regarding the effects of certain curses. It couldn't be affecting the castle the same way it could be affecting a human being. She found that the spell used may have been just barriers. Barriers around the castle and barriers in the mind. She was sure that memories could not ever be truly destroyed, so the next logical conclusion had to be that those of the Hatter were blocked from his access. She knew from how he reacted to her referencing his previous life that on some level he was aware that something must be missing. Barriers can be broken; with that in mind, she left the books open where they were and left the tower.

She walked to the entrance of the West Wing and took a deep breath. She had not liked being trapped her first time there and she did not want to repeat the experience but it was necessary if she was to progress in her efforts to help, so she ran in. It didn't take her long to get to the entrance of the Hatter's room and she pushed the massive doors open.

She walked inside and spotted him crouching and looking at something on the wall. She walked closer, carefully stepping over the hats on the floor, and saw that it was a large looking glass. It looked plain enough, no images embroidered its smooth silver frame. The glass was pristine and showed images so clearly it seemed as though one could step right through it.

Upon hearing her approach, he quickly stood and let go of the frame. Fog swirled in the image of the room it showed before fading and showing his reflection.

"I need to talk to you," she said, stopping about ten feet away from him. She assumed by now that he didn't like being in close proximity with her.

He swallowed and shook his head. "No. I'm not here. You can't talk to me," he quickly replied. His face pinched with pain and he pressed his hand to the side of his head. "I..I can't..go back. I can't go back to then because I'm here now and I'm not here." He began shaking his head again, pressing his hand harder. "I can't get it to work and it's making me not be here and I can't I-"

"You were trying to use the spells in the tower. I saw the books you left out a couple of weeks ago," she cut him off, speaking quietly and keeping her voice level.

His expression then shifted from pain to frustrated sadness and he clenched his fist, the hand against the side of his head dropped. "I can't read them. I could do it but I can't read them! I can't get it to work if I can't read them.." His hands shook and he swallowed again.

"I can read them. I can read them all. If you want me to teach you how, I can. We could get it to work together." She took a small step closer, hoping that she would be able to bridge the gap.

He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "You can?" He took a hesitant step closer to her. "You can get it to work?"

"I can try. There has to be a way. Will you let me help you, Jefferson?" She slowly raised her hand and held it out to him.

He tensed slightly, looking at her hand before reaching out and taking it. His grip was tight and the old bandages wrapped around his hand scratched her skin. He stepped closer to her until there was almost no space between them, the hand holding hers began to tremble. "You can really get it to work?" Fearful hope was in his face now.

"I think I can. I'm so sorry for what's been done to you. I promise I'll make this right somehow," she said softly, trying to ignore the knot forming in her stomach. Her mentor's admonitions echoed in her mind, telling her to not make promises she couldn't keep, to not bite off more than she could chew, to not stand on unsteady ground.

His hesitation was clear even though he seemed no longer physically repelled by her. His eyes slowly dragged from her feet up to her face and he was squeezing her hand even tighter. It seemed almost like he couldn't believe she was there. He swallowed once more and when he spoke his voice was hushed and cracking with fear. "Show me how. Show me how to make it work," he paused, his eyes glossing over with tears. "Please.."

She held his gaze until then and she could see how scared he was, how hopeful she was making him, how desperate he had grown at that point. Failure was not an option. She turned around, squeezing his hand reassuringly and led him to the door.

"I know the way out," he said from behind her, walking forward and tugging her along as he turned down hallways and passed through rooms. He moved too fast for her to memorize his route, so she let herself be pulled.  
They walked up the steps of the spells library's tower with her in front. The Hatter still hadn't let go of her hand or really loosened his grip, but she didn't care much for it until they arrived at the table. "May I have my hand?" she asked.

He released her immediately, moving back almost as if he'd been burned by her. "I want to read. I want it to work," he said, staring at the open books.

"I'll help you. Come over here." She picked up one of the thinner, less yellowed books.

Having to explain rules that were completely different from what she had learned before she could form proper sentences proved to be a bit of a challenge, especially when the Hatter got hung up on one particular thing and she had to repeat herself over and over. She didn't allow frustration to grow in her, however. It was in no way his fault that he had to start from scratch. If the old stories were true, he had considerable power himself, even if he had no access to it yet.

Hours passed and she taught him different signs, how to read simple spells, and ways of casting them that she knew of. He was visibly captivated by what she was teaching him, but didn’t speak. He proved to be good at listening, though and as she went on, Christine felt that maybe she was getting through to him. Something new was there at that moment.

As the night grew older, he must have felt he had seen enough or became overwhelmed because when she was getting another book, she turned to the table where he had been and found him gone. She looked around and couldn't find him anywhere in the tower. He hadn't made a single sound and his magic at that point was so weak there was no trail for her to follow. She looked down at the dusty book in her hands and sighed. She left it closed on the table and retired for the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine and Jefferson are making more progress here and have a small moment that shows just how far they're coming. She still has faith in him and he just might be trusting her more. This is another short, mostly filler chapter.

For about a week she taught him in chunks or a couple of hours so as to not flood him with more information than he could handle. She always studied on her own after he had left. Her parents and mentor always said that being able to teach something was a sign of real understanding, and she wasn’t sure if she had reached that point yet. The mainland magic was so strange. There were words and incantations for their spells just like back home, albeit in a different language, but there were no prayers. There was no invoking of a diety’s aid or prayers to be said before or after. She kept seeing the same thing over and over again telling the caster of the spell to focus on their intention. How could the spell or magic user weird any power with there was no higher power that helped them? That and the fact that the spell books themselves contained magical properties instead of outside ingredients. Christine was annoyed to find that the flowers and herbs she had preserved in the hopes that they would be useful in spells on the mainlands were not mentioned anywhere. Their magic was all emotion and raw power form the user, not controlled focus, natural materials, and spiritual connection. 

On the seventh day of lessons, the Hatter had insisted she teach him about portal magic and although she wasn't a master of it, and she did her best. He grew visibly agitated during that session and bolted out without warning when she addressed magical objects that held power.

Two days passed after that and Christine hadn't caught a glimpse of the Hatter. She had gone to the West Wing against the wishes of the frazzled Mr.Rabbit only to find every room lacking his presence. She returned to trying her own spells again, and was disappointed every time. Each small failure making her miss her home with its familiarity and abundance of masters. She had tea with the Cheshire cat, Brown Rabbit, and Mr.Rabbit the second evening in an attempt to dispel some of her increasing irritation. It was relatively effective, and after cleaning up she returned to the library.

Her routine when studying had been established by then, and part of her routine was being clean. The table and area around it was always neat when she left it. She always knew when the Hatter had visited because when he did, he always left a mess. Whenever she found open books scattered around she felt a little bit better; it meant he was trying and maybe even making progress of his own.

The last few times she had gone, she found the room exactly as she had left it. Each time she felt more and more uneasy. Had something else gone wrong? Had he hurt himself? She couldn't focus with the thoughts of him having gone into the tunnels in the mountain and falling down the stairs, or cutting himself with scissors bouncing around in her mind. With nothing to assure her he was safe, she worried for hours, pacing around the castle and hoping that she would run into him.

After another failed bout of spell casting, she trudged to her room in the North Wing. She looked down the hall and out the window at the dark sky. It was clear that night, but she didn't feel like gazing at the heavens. She was tired and angry and her anxiety was getting to a point that she couldn't concentrate on much of anything. It was so unlike her to grow so emotionally overwhelmed, and it grated on her nerves even more. She was supposed to be on her way to becoming a master of control, not giving way to her irrational feelings. 

She opened her door and walked in, letting it shut behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her bed illuminated by the pale moonlight.

Curled into a tight ball at the foot of the mattress was the Hatter. His shoes and hat had been discarded along with his long coat and lay in a small pile on the floor next to the bed. He was still and asleep, but his expression remained one of distress. Even in his sleep he found no peace.

Instantly Christine felt a wave of relief wash over her. He wasn't hurt or missing or worse. He still looked so broken, and she hated her lack of progress for making him suffer even longer. She quietly walked to the bed and grabbed a pillow and a blanket. She carefully tucked the pillow under his head and covered him with the blanket. She then changed into a long nightshirt and got into bed on the other side, not wanting to wake him with too much movement or contact. She closed her eyes and willed her body to relax. She winced quietly at the ghostly soreness that followed; she had been far more tense than she thought. Soon her mind grew fuzzy around the edges in anticipation of sleep.

A quiet rustling behind her made her eyes open again and she looked over her shoulder to see the Hatter crawling to where she was. His eyes were fixed on the comforter covering her, and he seemed almost afraid to look up.

"Hey, do you need something?" she asked softly.

He froze in place a foot away from her and looked back at the pillow and blanket he'd abandoned.

"I am not going to hurt you. Do you need help falling asleep?” she asked in a gentle voice, her tongue still tracing the sounds in the words with unfamiliarity.

He met her eyes and nodded once, swallowing and watching her as she drew the comforter back to make room for him next to her. He slid into the spot and rested his head on the large pillow hers was on. He looked at her with apprehension and tensed when she reached an arm out.

"Do you want a hug?" she asked.

He moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, tucking his face into the gap between her neck and shoulder. His fingers twisted into the fabric of her nightgown and he gripped her tightly.

She held him and rubbed his back, feeling him tremble against her. When she felt something wet dripping down her neck and realized that he was crying. She squeezed him and heard him sob.

"Please...Please..," was all he could manage through his tears.

"It is okay, everything is going to be okay. We are going to get it to work and you are going to get out of here," she said in a soothing tone.

He sniffed and took several shaking breaths then pulled back and wiped his face on the comforter. He reached for her again and she closed the space between them, holding him against her as he balled his fists up in the fabric of her nightshirt again. He could feel his own heart pattering too fast like it always did. His skin was buzzing from contact with her, even through clothes, and her presence felt like its own blanket that enveloped him. It made him feel safe, something that he had not felt any time in his life that he could remember. Little by little, he began to grow sleepy and drifted off, resting better than he did even in the room with the ghostly girl’s presence.

Once she felt his heart beating steadily and his breathing even out, she followed him into sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another short chapter where Jefferson makes his first real breakthrough. It takes place immediately after the previous one. Things pick up after this cliffhanger and we get to meet the real Jefferson, not just the Hatter that the curse created.

When Christine awoke she was alone, the room was still dark and she couldn't tell what time it was. Sitting up she looked around to see if the Hatter was somewhere in the room and found nothing. She slid off the bed and rubbed the remains of sleep from her eyes. She walked to the large window and saw that it was raining again. The sky was darker than it had been her first few days in the castle and the chill of the rain seemed to seep through the glass even though the sound of the drops pelting it could not. She shivered and lit a few candles to light her room as she got dressed in a warm lilac-colored dress that covered her arms with long puffed sleeves and hung down to her feet, dragging the slightest bit along the ground as she walked. She had been wearing nothing but pants for the last few weeks and felt like that day should have a dress. She combed through her curly hair in sections while looking into the vanity mirror of her room. She remembered it having been covered with dust and, having seen the magical looking glass the Hatter had, thought that perhaps it was the same way. She put her comb down and leaned forward with both hands on the vanity table. "What do you do, hm?" she asked it. "Can you show me things?"

The glass did not react.

"Can you show me where someone is?"

Again, nothing.

She pursed her lips and straightened, looking it over one last time before going out into the hall and toward the kitchen. It was dead quiet and very dark, but she knew her way around by now and needed not summon a light to guide her. She glanced at the paintings decorating the walls and saw their frames looked more worn than before. For the most part, the castle was in decent condition excluding the West Wing. It was clearly not maintained but how could it be with so little occupants able to contribute to its upkeep. She made tea for herself and found a few cookies in a jar. As she was pouring herself a cup, several candles illuminating the room for her, she heard footsteps approaching. She looked up and saw the Hatter in the doorway, watching her. She smiled at him. "Are you hungry? Would you like some tea?" She put the pot down when her cup was full.

"Tea...Just one cup. A clean cup," he said, shuffling in to sit in a chair next to the island counter. He folded his hands on the smooth stone and looked down at them until she placed a cup down for him. He blew on it and took a long sip, his eyes remaining fixed on the counter.

She dipped a cookie into hers and ate it, sipping after. The candles began to dim and as she was refreshing them, he spoke.

"I'm going to try again." He sounded not as sure of himself as he sounded resolute. His lips were thin and in a grim line when she returned to her cup. "I have to make it work..If not, she'll die.." he mused into his tea.  
"She?" Christine asked, keeping her voice low and level.  
His eyes flicked up to meet hers, head still tilted down to his cup. "She's trapped here too.." He swallowed and his voice shook with his next words. "My daughter.."  
Her eyes widened and she straightened up from where she had been leaning on the counter.  
"You have a daughter?"  
He gave her a sad smile. "If I don't get it to work she'll die and if she does then I'll die." He sounded like he was on the verge of sobbing.

"Wait, what do you mean? Is that part of the curse? How do you know that?"

"They told me and now she's going to die if I don't make it work," he repeated, sounding angrier. "They knew I wouldn't be able to do it..A hat without magic is just a hat.." He shook his head and downed the rest of his tea, not caring for how hot it was. "It has to work..I'm going to make it work for her," he said into his empty cup.

"You can and you will," she reassured him. "Do you want my help?"

"I can make it work. I can do it.." He took his cup, dropped it in the basin with the other used dishes, and walked out with his back bowed.

 

Two more days of darkness and rain passed after that, and Christine opted to study on her own again; the Hatter was nowhere to be found but it didn't worry her as much as it had before. She didn't try any new spells, she had done so many before she still felt drained, but she read more on portal magic and magical objects. She had one of her own, after all. The white-gold necklace she always wore was forged in fire that was conjured at the time of her birth. The long chain was supposed to be unbreakable, holding the crescent moon attached to it in the center of her chest. Sparkling white stars decorated the chain, and in moonlight or darkness the whole thing always appeared to glow. Early on, her father had cast a protection spell upon it that kept some purely evil magic from harming her. In her early studies back home, she had learned to channel spells through it. Those spells had focused intentions, they had incantations and no plants, but they were still different from what she had been doing lately; they had prayers. She twisted the chain around her fingers and wished that she could find a way to help.

She was carrying a book to the table when a blast of magic so powerful it nearly knocked her off of her feet surged through the castle. She looked around and could feel the source was nearby. She ran to the opening in the tower's wall that led deep into the mountain. A bloodcurdling scream shot ice through her and sent her sprinting into the tunnel, an orb of light flying in front of her. She dove down the stairs and through the chamber that opened to the other tunnels. As she drew closer, the scream became a wail that made the inside of her chest clench almost painfully. She found the source to be the Hatter who was curled into himself on the ground with several open books around him. She recognized them as being spell books regarding portal magic, and as her gaze returned to him, she could see the faintest bit of purple smoke being absorbed into his skin.

His shrieking rang through the tunnels and if he was forming any words they couldn't be understood in the least. His hands clawed at his head and hair, his poorly made hat having been discarded somewhere unknown. She could have sworn he was trying to rip his own head in two. Tears poured down his cheeks and soaked into the tie around his neck as he gasped for air.

When she tried to touch him he screamed louder and scrambled away, eventually folding himself up in the corner furthest away from her and the books.

Her stomach turned and she slid to the ground, pulling one of the books into her lap and reading what had caused his current condition. The spell he had tried was no longer in the book, the ink having been part of using it in the first place. She wracked her brain for what the now empty pages contained before. All of the books had a theme in common; breaking barriers. That’s what portals were, the breaking of barriers between worlds. Whatever the spell was, it had to have something to do with that. It struck her then what possibly could have come of the spell. The barriers in his mind could have been broken instead of the ones in around his hat or the castle itself.

She looked over to where he was still shaking and panting, his voice hoarse and now only able to produce broken sobs of anguish. She could feel from where she was more than a couple of yards away that he had magic in him. It was far more prominent than it had been before. Coming off of the hat was the same and she gathered the books, marking the pages with folds, so she could return to them later on. By then, he had gone completely limp, almost lifeless in appearance, on the floor.

Quietly walking over to him, she crouched down and checked his pulse. Just touching him allowed her to feel the new energy crackling beneath his skin. He seemed stable enough and she carefully picked him up, walking back through the tunnels with her light in front of them.

She brought him to her room and laid him down, wiping the tears from his face and covering him in a couple of blankets. Raindrops continued to pelt her window as she waited by the bed in one of the chairs the room had to offer. His expression was no longer that of torment, but something else had most definitely changed. This wasn't the Hatter anymore. Who she was helping now was unknown to her. Would this newfound magic of his be able to break the curse? She couldn't know until he woke. And so she waited patiently to meet the new cursed man of the castle.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a turning point. Jefferson is finally back, but the curse is not happy with this fact. Although Christine is hopeful, she understands that they still have limited time to get him out. It is most certainly not smooth sailing from here.

It was hard to know how much time passed before his eyes finally opened. In that time, however, Christine dozed off in her chair, slumped back with her mouth hanging open. Fingertips grazing her cheek snapped her back to attention and she was met with a pair of clear blue-gray eyes staring her down. The close proximity made her lean back slightly when he spoke.

"I remember.." A look of wonder was on his face and he seized her shoulders, beaming at her. "I have magic now! I remember who I was! I'm here now!" He unconsciously squeezed her shoulders in his building excitement. "I'm going to find my daughter and we're getting out of here!"

His bright smile was contagious and she returned it, feeling more hopeful than she had in weeks.

"Are you Jefferson?" she asked.

He let her go and held his hand out, palm up, to her with a tilted head and smaller smile. "That is my name. And you're a Cainanite."

She ignored the internal flinch at being called that and decided to correct him later. "I am. Christine is my name," she answered him back politely.

He grasped her arm with one hand and shook her hand with his other," A pleasure to meet you now that I'm here." He took a look around without letting her go and surveyed the room. "Where is this?"

"We are in the North Wing. Mr.Rabbit and the Cheshire Cat offered me this room when I came here a few weeks ago."  
He turned back to her, his fingers tightening around her arm. "You've been here that long? What for?"

She straightened up and met his eyes. "I am going to help you break this curse. I cannot let my people get away with something like this. You have been tormented here for nearly two decades."

His jaw clenched, but his smile remained even if it was slightly less enthusiastic. "Well..That's..Awfully kind of you.." He let her arm and hand go. "At what price?"

She shook her head. "You have paid it forward. I'm not exchanging services, I am helping because it is the right thing to do," she assured him even as it registered to her that something was amiss. She was still tingling from coming in contact with him; his magic was indeed very strong, but something in the castle itself was different and a familiar uneasiness began to take hold in her.

His elated smile shrank and he looked her over again. This was most definitely not the Hatter. He was examining her now, a hand raising to adjust his tie. "You don't want anything in return?" He met her eyes again, suspicious now.

"No I do not. You're suffered enough. It's only decent that I try to help you." She would normally never question her motive or morals, but he was right in bringing up that magic always came with a price. It occurred to her that she may end up being the one paying in this instance. Nevertheless, she refused to give up. She let her anger at the injustice done to him fuel her when he asked again.

"You know that can't be possible. Someone must always pay," he stated matter-of-factly.

She shrugged. "I guess you will have to decide how badly you want out of here, then. Is the price worth it?"

He frowned at that and spoke with a grave tone, his voice dipping low to an almost growl,"I know very well what is at stake here. I don't care if you know what you've gotten yourself into or not. I'm going to get it to work."

She shrank under his dark gaze and her eyes lowered for the briefest of moments before she forced them to meet his again. "I just want to use my powers for something that matters. They are useless otherwise."

His eyes lightened ever so slightly and a small smile curled his lips. "You're very young aren't you."

She almost laughed at that. The Hatter would never be so blunt. She liked Jefferson far better. "Twenty-four, sir."

His eyebrows raised. "Not as young as I thought." He considered this for a moment, his eyes raking over her carefully as if searching for a weakness or secret before his inviting smile returned, and he clapped a hand on her shoulder. "But power is power, and that you have an abundance of." He offered her his hand once again. "Thank you, Christine."

She returned his smile, albeit with hesitation, and shook his hand. "It is my pleasure, Jefferson."

He stood and stretched, shaking his head as if to clear it.

She remained sitting and looked up at him. “What can you remember now?”

He laughed breathlessly, turning to face her. “Too much.” He scrunched his face up. “It kind of hurts getting everything back all at once,” he shrugged, “But, it’s so much better to be back.” Some of his words were longer than others, making him sound a bit strange. “I remember that I’m a portal jumper and my hat is how I get around, I have a daughter trapped somewhere in here with me, and I am well-traveled enough to know something about everything,” he smirked, standing proudly,“I’m just about the best there is at what I do.” He paused and his smile dwindled. “Or rather, what I used to do..” He began to pace, tugging at the bandages on his hands.

“If you get out of here you can get your life back," she offered, attempting to restore his better mood.

He stopped and cast her an annoyed look. “I know that. The problem is actually getting out.” He sighed and took a piece of his messy hair between his fingers. “Maybe I do need someone new to help me..” He gave her a sideways glance. “You said before that you remembered me from when I tried to steal from your country, right?”

She nodded. “I tried to help you get out like you asked, but my teacher caught you and-”

He rested his hand on his hip and cut her off,“Yes, I remember that. How old were you?”

“I was eight years old.”

“You don’t remember much about me, do you?” He glanced at the vanity and walked to it.

“I remember what you looked like, I was able to recognize you. Why?” She stood.

He looked himself over in the mirror, glowering at the image that he was returned. “Because this isn’t right..This isn’t me..”  
She walked to him and looked in the mirror. “Is there a way to fix that..?”

His head tilted and he shrugged with a small smile. “I think there is.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer character-building filler chapter. Christine and Jefferson are bumping heads a bit, and we get clear views into what they currently think of each other. More development is to come as they fight this curse together.

"What do you want to change?" she asked, looking him over and trying to recall how he had been dressed when she first met him as a child. She had been visiting her mentor Rashanda after a meeting in her home's capital city. When it ran long, she had immediately gotten bored and began wandering. She had ended up downstairs by the vaults by accident, and the guards had paid her no mind as she was a child. When she saw a human inside, she had known something was wrong, but he had seemed so nice and that made her want to help him. Rashanda caught him anyway.

"Everything..All of this has to go.." He pulled off the sash of thread rolls that crossed his back and dropped the pincushion around his wrist. "This isn't me." He touched his hair and his face pinched into a disgusted squint. "How did this happen.." He met his reflection's eyes with a bitter smile. "I guess that's just what too much time alone does, right?" He turned to her,"I don't want to know what I was like. I'm getting rid of all of this. Do you know any rooms with fabric?"

A bit surprised by being addressed, she looked up. "Fabric? I don't know anywhere else but the West Wing."

He shook his head, smiling more even while his eyes remained stormy. "There is no way I'm going back in there." He pressed a fist against his mouth in thought. His eyes scanned the rugs on the floor. "There has to be somewhere else.."

"I could go for you. I'm not afraid of being trapped for a little while," she suggested.

Without raising his head he looked up at her then dropped his hand to his hip, straightening to his full height. "You think it's that easy? What if you can't find a way out, huh? What will you do then?" he chided her, "It's too dangerous in there. In fact, this whole castle is too dangerous for you to be in." It came out defensive and angry, and he internally lashed himself for it. He should be honest and tell her that he was upset by someone so nice and bright being stuck in a place of darkness like he was, but integrity was a virtue that he did not have. He wasn't worth her time.

"Pardon me?" She scowled at him, indignant. "I can take care of myself, sir! I'm the one who brought you back in the first place!"

Apparently he had thought too soon to consider her nice. "Oh did you? As far as I recall, you didn't cast the spell that broke the curse's hold on me!" he countered, stepping further into her space.

She refused to retreat, clenching her fists and squaring her shoulders. There were less than two inches of a difference between their heights; she easily matched him. "Without me teaching you how to read spells, you wouldn't have been able to cast anything! And if I recall correctly, it was my being here that finally brought you out of the hopeless hat-making stupor you'd been in for years!" Her green eyes lit up, casting a dull emerald light on his face mere inches away from hers.

He swallowed his next rebuttal and stared at her eyes in horror. "What the.." He took a step back. "You're a.."

"Cainanite! I told you!" She closed her eyes and covered them with her hand, filling the momentary silence with an exasperated sigh. She despised the name. It branded her as malicious and followed her around like a fog no one cared to see through. She was a Kartian, not simply of Cain, but only the worst mistake of her people would ever be remembered.

"I know, you told me," he snapped, then reined in his anger. None of this was her fault, it was all his. "I didn't believe you, okay?" He tugged at his long, messy hair. "I'm sorry." It felt unnatural for him to say it, but the last thing he needed was for the only person who could help him to leave because he couldn't control himself.

She dropped her hand, and he could see that her eyes had returned to normal. "I suspected as much..I'm sorry for yelling at you, I just hate it when people talk down to me." She slid her bottom lip between her teeth, taking another breath.

"That's understandable.." He walked closer to her. "Can you help me fix this?" He gestured to his tattered clothes.

She nodded, her lighter mood quickly returning. "I saw rooms full of fabric in the West Wing. I won't ask you to come with me, but if you tell me what you need, I can get it for you."

"Fine. And while I'm waiting?"

"Draw a hot bath and stay in it as long as you need to, I'm probably going to take more than an hour, and your hair is in desperate need of cutting."

He nodded. "Yes. Okay." Well didn't she take charge quickly.

She walked to the door. "I'll show you to the washroom. What do you need me to get?"

He followed her. "Black and brown leather, patterned if possible, buttons, some fabric for cravats, vests and shirts, and a couple of yards of black wool or leather for a coat in case it gets cold, though I probably destroyed most of what's in there."

"That's no problem." She opened the washroom door next to her room.

The floor was clay bricks with a small area cut off by wood to be used as a sauna. The bathtub was dug into the floor and was white on the inside. Rich brown curtains were tied one either side of the tub with velvet rope and there was a pump that drew from a spring in the ravine below the mountain.

Jefferson looked at the sauna first. "Are there coals in there?"

Christine walked in and called out. "There are, I can heat them for you."

He shuffled his feet and walked in behind her. "Please do."

She left him with the steam-filled sauna and walked to the West Wing.

Despite having suffered many rampages and damage at the hands of the Hatter, the waste laid to the rooms themselves left the fabrics inside unscathed. Christine folded the fabrics she needed and had them follow her a few feet above the air as she navigated the nonsensical shifting and twisting of the halls around her. An indeterminable amount of time passed before she was able to get out.

 

Being left alone with his thoughts was not something Jefferson had ever liked. He kept himself busy to keep his head quiet, and now there was nothing keeping his thoughts from screaming at him. Every time he closed his eyes another memory surfaced, and another, and another, forcing him to relive each one in vivid detail. He ended up frozen in place, his eyes squeezed shut as he hunched over and yanked at his long hair. He began to feel light-headed from lack of breathing, but the noise wouldn’t stop. Suddenly, an image rose in his mind that forced him to his knees and brought him to shake.

A medium-sized wicker basket covered with a blanket was lying on the ground by the front door of his favorite home on the edge of the United Kingdoms. Something under the blanket was squirming and small peeping noises could be heard. He took it to his sitting room and uncovered it. A baby was inside. They had deep brown eyes and fair skin. Their golden was thin and wavy.

His eyes went wide and he stared down at it. He left it on the plush couch and ran to the door, couldn’t find who had left the basket. He turned back and closed the door.

He snapped back to reality and felt hot tears dripping from his chin. His daughter, his Grace, her life was still at risk. Failure couldn’t even be considered as an option.

He looked at the wooden door of the sauna a few feet away and stood. He shed his coat, torn pants, old tie, and stained shirt. They were all left in a pile by the wall with his undergarments following suit. He walked into the wood room and inhaled deeply, wishing he could expel his wretchedness as easily as he could the steam in his lungs. he sat on a bench and leaned back against the walls. His eyes slid shut and he stopped fighting.

 

Christine took her time returning to the master washroom in the North Wing. She thought Jefferson needed time to himself. She dropped the fabrics off in the room she slept in and walked down the hall to the washroom she had left him in.

Steam had seeped out from between the gaps in the wood and made the rest of the room humid. "Jefferson? Are you still in here?" She walked to the pump and opened up the flow of water.

"I'm here. What exactly do you have in mind?" His voice was flat.

"Well, you definitely have to bathe, and I am going to wash your hair so I can cut it. Unless you want to keep it the way it is."

"No. I want to get rid of it. It makes me look crazy."

She checked the water temperature. It was far too cold.

He added after a moment's silence, "Crazier than I already am.." The wood creaked when he stood. "Is there soap?"

"I found bars of it and there's some for the water. Which do you want?" She let the water run, heating it with a simple spell, and picked up a bottle and bar that were by a basin to wash hands in.

"Both." He stepped out from behind the door with a towel around his waist as she poured the contents of the bottle into the rush of water. A blue color spread and bubbles began to foam and collect on the surface.

"Your fabrics are in the room I sleep in. I will be across the hall if you need me, I am not going to bathe you."

He walked to the tub. "I don't need you to," he quickly replied.

As she was closing the door he quietly said,"Thank you."

She paused. "You are welcome." She walked across the hall and sat on the floor under the window, taking the time she had to center herself. Something was still seriously wrong with the energy around her. Her mind drifted from trying to silence itself to sorting out where the new aura had come from. Perhaps the darkness that had taken hold of the castle was what wore him down and tormented him over the years. When he broke its hold it must have grown stronger inside the castle itself. That was the only logical explanation she could come to and she sighed, leaning her head back against the wall.

If she was going to be able to work with Jefferson, she had to remain calm. She understood why he would be angry, he had every right to be. She had to remember that it wasn't personal and get dragged into fights with him for no reason. The knot in her gut stirred, and she opened her eyes.

What if she couldn't break the curse? What if she failed and let the cruelty of a few of her kind ruin the lives of two people? She gritted her teeth and cleared her mind of the notion. Negativity was not going to help her. There was always a chance of things not going according to plan but she was not going to dwell on that, not when lives were hanging in the balance. All she could do was her best, and that's what she would do.

"Christine!" Jefferson's voice brought her back to reality and she stood, walking to the washroom with a pair of scissors she'd found in his coat pocket earlier.

"Ready to cut your hair?"

He was barely visible in the mountain of bubbles filling the tub. It looked almost comical with his somber expression still in place. “Yes.” His hair was darker now that it was wet and as he leaned back against the tub’s edge, she knelt on the floor. “How do you want it?”

“Almost everything off the sides. The top can be a little long, I’m not too particular.” He held up a piece of hair. “I just want to be rid of all this excess..”

She followed his instruction and let the stray pieces of hair collect on the floor. His ends were a lot lighter than his roots and when she was finished, there was no light brown left. The dark strands that remained stuck up and out all on their own, and when he ran his hands through them, she could see him visibly relax, his expression softening. “That’s so much better,” he murmured.

“It suits you.” She stood with the scissors and left to get a broom to sweep up the hair. Cutting it had revealed to her that his pale skin was not as flawless as it looked. His neck was marred with a thick scar that ran all the way around, as if he had somehow been decapitated and the skin had been fused back together. When she saw it, it had shocked her, but she felt it was not the right time to ask and said nothing.

He watched her go and sank into the water, holding his breath. He relished the heat surrounding him and tried to ignore the pull he felt whenever she was around. He remembered it drawing him even when he had been mad with the curse's hold on him, and it had scared him into wanting to avoid her. He had a strange sense of somehow knowing when someone was going to be significant to him no matter where he was. It wasn’t always in a good way, some that triggered this sense were malevolent and had dark magic that could destroy entire realms. Others knew the language of subtler magic that flowed in their veins and could be felt all around them. What bothered about this Cainanite was that he had never felt such magnetism before. When he touched her, he could feel the energy she contained was greater than anything he had ever encountered. It was begging to burst out, to be free, and he wanted to see what it could do. He wanted some of it.  
They had met once before, but what had concerned him at that time was that the presence of such a small child was so charged with power. She had taken his hand and tried to lead him out of the vaults then, and he had wanted to yank his hand away from her when he felt the energy buzzing inside of her.  
It was disconcerting to him that he felt so compelled to be near her, and when she returned, he stayed under the water to see if the effect was the same. It was. He could sense her presence so potently it surprised him. Perhaps she could be useful if he ever got out. She could teach him more, or unlock more worlds previously unknown to him. The possibility for power had to be it.

He sat up, a grin spreading across his face as he slicked his hair back with the water. Perhaps this chance encounter could end up being a good thing after all.

They didn’t say anything as she cleaned up. She made her way to a sitting room when he finished bathing and left him to work on something new to wear.

As the hours passed and the sky grew darker, Christine occupied herself with her favorite notebook. Unlike the one she used for actually writing notes of her studies, this one was completely unorganized with the large, thick pages covered in messy pieces of prose, poetry and drawings. Large buckles kept it closed and the brown leather holding it all together was weathered from years of use. Her mind wandered and her pen drew smooth lines and dotted little phrases everywhere until the page was filled with the image of the castle and the mountain.

Jefferson stared his reflection down in the vanity mirror. He was wearing a purple shirt underneath a brown leather vest with two rows of silver buttons on the front. A read cravat with a floral pattern in black velvet was around his neck, covering his scar. His pants were form-fitting and made of black velvet. Over it all was a long black overcoat with leather cuffs, a high leather collar, and silver buttons. It was almost exactly like his favorite one that had gone missing. He had found two rings in the drawer of the vanity that he put on his right index and ring fingers. He looked more like himself now, but he knew something was different. Looking into his own face, he could see something wild furiously trying to burst from behind his eyes. His skin was looked unhealthily pale, and he looked so tired. He straightened his slouched posture and ruffled his dark hair, letting the right-sided part make one side stick straight up while the other hung in front of his face, a few pieces just barely covering his eyes. He removed his coat and draped it across a chair before turning to the door and walking into the hall.

The sitting room door was slightly open, but he gently knocked anyway, peeking through the gap to see Christine curled up on a chair by the window with a lit candle on the sill and a large book in her lap. She was clearly focused, and as she scribbled something on the page, the tip of her tongue slid out of the corner of her mouth.

"Christine?" he said, stepping inside and feeling that same magnetism from the washroom and even the night he'd wandered into her room before.

She looked up," Hm?" Her hand stilled and she looked him over,"Oh wow, you arre very good at sewing."

His lips curled up in an impish smile. "Thank you." He walked to her side and leaned down to look at what was on her page. "Do you have any ideas on where we should go from here?"

"I think so, but not right now. It is late." She closed the book and tucked the feather quill into the buckles when she closed them. She picked up her ink well and stood. "I am going to bed. Are you staying up?"

He scratched his cheek with a ringed finger. "I..I would rather not be left alone at the moment." He tilted his head and clasped his hands behind him. "Would you mind if I was in your room with you? I won't cling to you or anything, if you don't want that I just.." He trailed off.

She gave a him a reassuring smile, shaking her head. "I do not mind at all. I like having company." She walked to the door. "Shall we?"

He followed her to her room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another filler chapter where we get to see how Christine and Jefferson are working things out. We also get to hear about Christine's homeland and some of the species she has grown up around. More to come on that and their relationship.

During the next few days, the two of them worked out a sort of routine. They stayed up late and slept through the day, sharing the large bed in the room Christine had come to call hers. Sometimes they woke curled around each other. They didn't make a big deal out of it and got up, got dressed, then made supper. They would read through the spell books and cast the spells they thought would help if they could. When they were drained, they would explore the castle, talk with the other creatures living there, and sleep if they got tired. Some mornings, when they were on the verge of sleep, they would talk about nothing in particular. It was a pleasant change for them both.

There were still days when failure weighed heavily on them both. Those were the days when Jefferson would leave without a word or explanation and search for Grace, leaving Christine to find a corner somewhere to pray. They didn't speak much about what they did when they were away from each other. That wouldn't help them make progress or really do anything but damage their emerging friendship.

Christine had been under apprenticeships for the last four years and though some people were friendly, she didn't feel as comfortable with them. She found Jefferson fascinating. He was all over the place like her, but everything he had to say was meaningful. He was expressive and intense and she could already see how his experiences had shaped him. Outwardly he didn't look too old, most likely a few years older than her, but there was something behind his eyes that looked weary and worn from a long life. This was less visible at times because of the spark in him that would occasionally surface during rants he would sometimes get into. She tried to focus on making progress most of the time, but he was very distracting.

Jefferson loved having someone to talk to. Christine was smart enough that she could somehow follow his rapidly shifting trains of thought and switched topics easily when he did. The more time he spent with her, the better he felt. She quieted down the pandemonium in his head. The best was the light in her. It was such a lovely contrast to the darkness that surrounded them both. He wanted to be as close to her as he could. He didn't want to be alone ever again. He needed to find out what drew him to her. He wished he could ask his daughter what she thought of the captivating Cainanite.

"Have you been to every land the hat can go to?" Christine asked, sitting on her bed criss-crossed with a pillow in her lap. She was facing Jefferson who was lying back against the many other pillows piled at the head of the bed.

"Well, it's hard to know for sure. The room I told you about when I don't know where to go doesn't always have the same doors," he explained.

"Oh really? How do you get somewhere when the door is not there?" She leaned forward, bright eyes wide.

"For the most part, I know where I'm going, so I can open a portal straight to the place I'm needed. If not, I have to wait for everything to line up and let me go when the door appears again. There's not really rhyme or reason to it."

"Do you think there is a way to control it?"

He chuckled. "You're very big on controlling things, aren't you? Not everything is meant to manipulated and ordered around. Sometimes you just have to let things be and wait for the right time." He waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Every world has its own rules, but randomness exists everywhere."

She nodded, looking a tiny bit disappointed by his answer. "Have you ever wanted to go somewhere you are unable to?"

He shook his head. "Not really. When you've been around as long as I have with my ability, there's not much to want for."

She contemplated this for a moment and he sat up a bit, propping himself up with a pillow under his back. "Enough about me for now. You never run out of questions to ask. I barely know what you're about at all."

She looked up from where she'd been focused on the pillows around him. "Hm? Oh, well there is not too much to know."

He gave her a skeptical look. "You and I both know that isn't true. How did you get here?"

"I heard about a cursed castle on the edge of the Enchanted Forest with a cursed man living inside and-" she shrugged,"-I wanted to find out the truth. I do not like believing rumors. I would rather find things out for myself."

He smiled a bit at her answer. "Was it just curiosity? Why would you put yourself in danger?"

She shook her head, trying not to smile. "I kind of like danger. It is fun to be challenged and I just had to know."

He laughed a bit. "You know, you could do a lot with a spirit like that. Is there anything you have your heart set on?"

She looked down at the patterned pillow in her lap. "Not really. I would love to travel." She looked up at him again, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. "There is a whole universe out there. I cannot even imagine what I could learn if I could go to more places. I have already learned so much in the Mainlands."

He cocked an eyebrow."What do you mean 'Mainlands'?" he repeated.

"Oh, that is just what we call all of the kingdoms back home," she explained, almost absently, like it was common knowledge.

"Really? What do you think of being here, then? Is your land so different from these?" Despite being extremely well-traveled, he had never visited her country except to steal one thing, and even then he had been so hasty out of fear that he didn't bother seeing what it was actually like.

She laughed and spread her arms out. "It is a whole different world! I do not know how you all manage with your carriages being so slow and your streets having no lights at night when you cannot see in the dark." She put a hand to her forehead. "Where do I even begin? Everything is completely different."

Now he was far more interested. "I'm going to guess you speak another language?" Her accent had stood out to him from the beginning. It was unlike any other one he had heard. He would never say it, but he thought it was cute when she tripped over some of her words.

"Oh several. It is a lot larger than Mainlanders think it is." She held onto the pillow in her lap again. "You can ask me questions, I do not mind. I really have no idea what to tell you. There is too much."

He thought for a moment, then said,"You mentioned lights in the streets? What's that about?"

"Yes, we have giant flowers with tiny, bio-luminescent creatures living inside of them that glow in the dark. The flowers open up when there are a lot of humans around and light things up for them," she explained. "They're very pretty, and you can get them for your home instead of using lanterns or candles."

He could remember seeing some plants like that when he went. "They sound beautiful. You say they're for humans, though, do Cainanites not need light?"

She reminded herself to would correct him later, as she had been doing for days. "We are nocturnal by nature. And our senses are different from human ones. We can see perfectly fine in the dark. I like having some light, but that is a personal preference," she said.

He nodded. "I see." He thought for another moment while she adjusted the long pants she had chosen to sleep in that day. "What do your people think of us who live on the outside?"

She smiled knowingly at him. "I knew you were going to ask that. We think of ourselves as outsiders. We understand that there is just no relationship between us and you aside from Mainlanders sending us their worst people. We do not think much of the Mainland kingdoms. We have learned to keep to ourselves, since we are fairly certain that you hate us," she said flippantly, laughing at the end.

"Really? You don't care about it at all?" he asked.

"Not really. I am right about the hate part, though, am I not? Most of you either hate us or are terrified of us. You looked so scared when my eyes glowed the first time anyone would have thought I just pulled out a dagger and threatened to kill you with it." Her tone was neutral, not accusing like he thought it should have been.

He felt his cheeks burning a bit. "I'm sorry about that, but all we ever hear about all of you is that-"

"-We are evil, murderous monsters that want to destroy the whole world and enslave you all so we can reign supreme. I know, and none of it is true," she cut him off, still not sounding as upset as she should have been. "I have heard it all by now."

He ran a hand through his hair. "That must be hard." He wasn't sure what he could say about it, since he was guilty.

"I will say, I have never been somewhere with such an abundance of humans. I like you all," she said with a smile.

He pursed his lips and looked at her pointedly. "What do you mean by that? Are there no humans in your land?"

She shook her head. "Oh no, there are many. Us Kartians need them around."

"For what?" he asked, almost afraid of what answer he would get.

"Food," she said simply. "Chaefina drink blood to sustain themselves. They need the life that's inside of humans. And gorluin feed on the dead." She responded to his disgusted expression by adding,"It is not painful either, by the way. I have heard from plenty of humans that they enjoy being fed from. It is not supposed to be a terrible, bad thing. Humans eat cattle and sheep and pigs, right?"

He knew she meant well by the comparison, but he did not want to think of his own kind as livestock for hers. It was so odd with her looking so human as well. He would have had no idea she was not human if it wasn't for her talking about it. That and how her eyes had glowed bright emerald when she got very angry. That had terrified him.

"I suppose you're not wrong." He chose his words carefully, then saw that she was fidgeting with the chain of her necklace like she always did when she was nervous and said,"It's good that you don't hurt them. I hope you don't think I'm put off by all of this, you're very nice. Where you're from doesn't bother me."

She blinked and nodded, not smiling but not looking entirely downtrodden either. "Thank you. I have really enjoyed getting to see other kingdoms, I must say. I would love to see what more exists beyond this."

He winked at her,"Well, I could most definitely help you with that."

She giggled, her smile getting shyer. "At what price?"

He shrugged, his mischievous smile back in place. "I don't know yet."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another short filler chapter that takes a scene almost straight out of the movie Beauty and The Beast. Jefferson may just be feeling more for Christine and she may be returning that.

The White Rabbit's foot tapped impatiently against his chair. He looked between Christine, who had finished her food, and Jefferson, who had barely touched his. This was because he had been talking all of supper and barely gave himself a moment to rest his running mouth. The two were still trying spells to break the curse's magic. It probably did not help that Jefferson specialized in near nothing but portal magic, and that Christine was learning their written languages and form of spells along her way.

Casting a glance at the nervous rabbit, the Cheshire Cat rolled his large green eyes and tapped his spoon against the table top. "I hate to interrupt, but Mr.Rabbit and I would like to have a word with you, Jefferson. It's very important."

Christine took her plate and stood. "No problem! Do you mind if I clean my dishes?"

The Rabbit shook his head quickly, smiling at how polite and considerate she was. It was a pleasant change from the Cheshire's irritating slyness and the Brown Rabbit's mania. "Not at all, dear. Thank you."

Jefferson looked at the two of them, his jaw set firmly. "What is this about? Did something happen to-"

"-We still don't know where she is," The Cheshire Cat cut him off.

"We wanted to suggest something else to break this curse," the White Rabbit added.

"Perhaps you both need to try a different approach. You know what magic is the most powerful, don't you?" Leaning his round head on his paws, the Cheshire Cat let his body float up above the table.

Jefferson shook his head immediately. "That's not going to happen. There has to be another way."

"Are you so sure of that?" Cheshire grinned at him. "You've never known someone like her before have you?"

Jefferson's eyes narrowed. "I'm well aware. She is precisely the reason why that's not an option."

The Rabbit leaned forward, insistent. "You must in the very least consider it! How do you know something isn't already there?"

He slammed his fork into the table. "Because there's no way someone like her would be able to love someone like me!"

The rabbit all but leapt out of his chair and said nothing.

The Cheshire Cat tilted his head. "And what do you mean by that?"

Jefferson turned on him, eyes wild and blazing. "Don't you see me?" He asked incredulously, his face pinching with hurt, "I'm no good for her! All of this is my fault. I did this to myself because I was greedy and weak. It's ruined me! As soon as she realizes who I truly am, she won't be able to stand me."

"I think you underestimate her." The Cat said matter-of-factly.

"W-Well, we were only thinking that you could show her the library. The larger one. She would really love it, don't you think?" The Rabbit's voice was tentative and he was shaking like a leaf.

Jefferson slumped back into his chair, plucking his fork from the wood of the table. "Yes. She would." He stood and left the fork on his plate without looking at them, his face was stormy and dark as he walked down the hall to the kitchen. He looked in and found Christine putting away some dishes. He already felt a little bit better knowing where she was and what she was doing. He leaned against the doorframe with a hand on his hip, watching her for a moment. A tug in his gut urged him to get closer to her, and he tried to ignore it. He didn't know what this was, but it certainly wasn't love. It couldn't be.

"Christine?" he finally said when she was drying her hands.

She turned around, holding a dishcloth. "Yes? Do you want me to put away your dishes?" She tried her best not to let her eyes wander from his. She didn't need supernatural hearing to eavesdrop on the conversation in the dining room with how much he had yelled. Couple that with the burning scent of his fury surrounding him, and she could have guessed without hearing anything.

He shook his head, walking closer. "I want to show you something. A part of the castle you haven't been to yet."

Interest lit up her face and she put the cloth down. "There's more? What is it?" She asked to make him feel better. She already knew it was a library.

He grabbed her wrist. "Follow me, I'll show you." He led her out of the kitchen and through the south wing. Just before the North Tower, there was a door larger than the others in the wing. They pushed it open and entered the narrow hall. It was lighter than the rest of the castle with granite replacing the pitch black marble normally seen. The door at the end was massive and ornate with gold and silver vines and flowers adorning the white material that made it stand out.

Christine rushed forward several steps before having her arm seized by Jefferson. By then she had rolled the sleeve of her loose shirt down. She had gotten a bit tired of being so feminine, and her hair had been tied and pinned back as well.

"Wait! You have to close your eyes before you get to go in."

She narrowed her eyes, a small smile on her face. "Why?"

His hand slid down to hers, and she managed to suppress that the simple contact shot through her. "Please? Just humor me."

She groaned dramatically and squeezed her eyes shut, letting him tug her to the door.

He pushed it open and pulled her in. "Cast some light, it's dark."

She did as told and a large white orb floated to the ceiling, illuminating the room.

"You can open your eyes."

She did so immediately and gasped,"By the gods.."

The library was far larger than she had imagined. The white and golden walls rose high above them and were completely filled with books of every color and size. Elegantly decorated spiral staircases allowed access to walkways held up by dark wooden columns and in the center, a large fireplace acted as a centerpiece. The tall windows were covered by dark red curtains and the polished patterned floor had rugs covering areas with tables and chairs set out.

A jubilant smile spread across Christine's face as she looked around, her feet frozen in place. "This is..This is incredible!" She looked to him. "This is all yours?"

He shook his head. "Not anymore."

She gave him a puzzled look. "Why not?"

He chuckled and leaned in, as if telling a secret. "It's all yours now."

Her eyes went wide and she squeezed his hand. "Really? You mean it? I get all of this?" She was bouncing with excitement now.

It was all he could do not to laugh at how eager she was. She was still so young and full of a light and life that he hadn't gotten to see in well over a decade. She was practically vibrating with it, her massive aura that seemed to fill every room she was in, enveloped him with her excitement. He knew that if he could, he would keep her this happy all of the time.

She took a few steps forward, letting go of his hand. "Have you read these?"

He followed her, leaving a bit of space between them. "I can't say that I have. I was a preoccupied, so reading wasn't a priority.

That seemed to bring her back to reality and she stopped, her smile dampening. "I see. I really should not waste time. Do you want to-"

"Don't be like that. You're dying to run around and get your hands on every book in here. Maybe you'll find something that will help. Either way, this is yours now. you can do whatever you want." He got behind her and pushed at her back just to be able to touch her. "Go on."

She grinned at him again and threw her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you so much, Jefferson! I promise I will not let you down!" She let go before he could hug her back and ran into one of the aisles.

They spent the rest of the evening there. Christine picked several dozen books and laid them in stacks on a table near another window with a sill large enough for at least three people to sit on. She found a few pillows and arranged them so she could sit comfortably. She took three books, all of them on the origins of different worlds' magic, and began reading.

Jefferson sat on the sill facing her, a book on the geography of a world he'd already been to in his hands. He idly leafed through it with little interest as most of the information was already known to him. More and more he found himself looking over at where Christine was engrossed in a book of her own. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages and she turned them often, concentration set in her face.

She glanced up and locked eyes with him, then smiled. "What are you reading about?"

He shrugged,"Somewhere I've already been." He looked down at the map on the page.

"Where is it? What world?" She left her book open at her side and sat up. "Can I see?"

He nodded and moved over, leaning on the window so a space big enough for her was left next to him.

She crawled over and sat with her arm pressing against his, looking at the map. "That is a strange shape for a land to be in? Why is it a circle?"

"Well, the rulers of the land you're looking at sought to create a perfect race and nation. They believed that the perfect environment would create the perfect culture, so they spent generations shaping the land with spells that altered the nature of everything around them, including the landscape."

"That is amazing," she mused,"Did they succeed?" Such magic could be dangerous for the ecosystems of a land like that. Nature was meant to be wild and free, not tamed and carefully controlled. People could help it along, yes, but that was excessive.

"That's a matter of opinion. I found them rather dull," he said flatly, turning the page.

"Where else have you been? Are there books on more worlds with magic like that?"

He shut the book. "It's hard to compare the magic of different worlds. All of them have different rules and their magic has different abilities. It can be very random. As far as where I've been, I could go on forever.."

She looked at the book's cover, her eyes lingering on his fingers holding it in his lap. "We do not have forever, but there must be enough time for a couple of stories, right?" She smiled.

"You really want me to tell you more?" he asked, disbelief in his tone even as a smile grew on his face.

"Yes! You know so much, you have been everywhere. I wish I could do that, but I cannot just yet and you are the next best thing! Maybe even better."

He put the book down and sat up. "Fine, since you asked so nicely." Something in the back of his head told him to stop, but he ignored it, favoring the warmth he felt at having someone be so interested in him as a person instead of how they could use him. Maybe there was something there. He didn't want to dwell on it. All he wanted to focus on was the fascinated sorceress beside him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This short filler chapter reveals some about Jefferson and Christine. They are certainly growing closer together, but unfortunately there are still walls between them that will take time to break down.

“I do not see why I should wait for them to bake, the batter is perfectly fine.” Christine dipped her finger into the red velvet cake batter her and Jefferson were about to bake.

“They’re meant to be cake. The batter isn’t supposed to be eaten on it’s own, you’ll get sick.” He put the cake pan down on the counter next to the large mixing bowl they had made the batter in. "Stop licking the spoon, I need it."

"Why? You can pour the batter without the spoon." Christine licked it again. It was almost clean now.

He inhaled through his nose and put a hand on his hip. "Why won't you give it to me? You don't have to eat the batter."

She shrugged. "I do not like cake as much as I like batter." She stuck the tip of the spoon in her mouth.

He swiped it from her and turned to the bowl, lifting it over the pan and pouring the batter into it.

"Hey! I was eating that!"

"You can have what's left in the bowl." He filled the pan halfway and left the rest in the bowl. "There, that's quite enough. Happy now?"

She crossed her arms. "Not as happy as I was, but if that is how you're going to be then fine."

He rolled his eyes, holding back a smile and walked to the oven, pushing the pan inside and shutting the door. "We've a little more than twenty minutes. Are you going to help me clean up or are you going to be completely useless?" He turned around to find her eating spoonfuls of the batter. "Are you serious?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded and ate another spoonful almost defiantly then set the bowl and spoon aside. "Can you pass me a cloth so I can sweep up this flour please?" She caught the cloth tossed her way and gathered the flour into a pile on the countertop while Jefferson cleaned the other cups they used and put away the eggs.

When the kitchen was clean again, Christine sat on the counter with the bowl and her spoon, eating bits of the batter. "The cake is going to be hot, we'll have to let it cool for a while."

"Yeah, you're right. We should have started this earlier." Jefferson cast a glance at the fiery oven. It was the only thing casting light in the room, and made everything faintly orange

"If you are hungry you can have some of my batter." Christine held the spoon out to him. Her eyes lingered on his spiky hair, a trick of the light making it appear redder.

He pushed it out of his face without looking at her. "No thank you, I don't like batter."

"Why not?" She licked the spoon. "It is like liquid cake."

He shrugged, leaning against the counter. "I just don't care very much for it."

Dipping her finger in the batter, Christine reached over and smeared some onto Jefferson's cheek. She would have done something to his clothes, but she loved his tailor work. She had stolen a shirt or vest or two, but he hadn't said anything about that yet. Surely he recognized when she was wearing them, like now, given how they didn't quite fit her curvier form.

He jerked back. "What was that for?!" He quickly wiped his cheek. His lips twitched.

She laughed. "You should have seen your face! I put cake batter on you, not unicorn blood!"

He took the bowl from her and dipped a couple of fingers in, flicking it onto her pants. "How's that?"

She sat up. "Oh you are on!" She tapped his nose with the spoon still covered in batter and a glop dripped onto his face.

He stepped back. "Why you-!" He wiped his nose off and looked down at his hands. "That is so immature!" he said with a laugh.

She hopped down from the counter. "Says the man who got batter on my pants because his cheek got dirty."

He narrowed his eyes at her, still smiling, and licked his fingers. "Fine, I can't deny that."

She wiped her pants with her fingers and licked them.

When the cake was finished, she took it out and set it on the counter to cool. By then she'd finished the batter and they were both clean.

"What now? I am not tired enough to go to sleep." Christine walked with him into the hall. "I am going to change, though. Itis late, and we were up all day."

Jefferson nodded. "I second that. Do you want to go read?"

She shook her head. "No..I am in more of a wandering mood right now. Can we explore some more?"

"Sure we can." He stepped a little bit closer to her and held onto two of her fingers as they walked back to what they had established at that point to be their room.

When both were changed into pajamas, Christine in a long beige nightshirt that hung down to her ankles and Jefferson in brown silk pants with a short robe to match, they walked from their room next to the North Tower, to the middle of the North Wing where they passed a large curtain they had neglected to take notice of before. They had assumed it was just covering a wall for no reason, but now it was moving the tiniest bit.

Christine grabbed his arm to stop him. "Hey, look at this." She turned to the curtain and walked forward, grabbing it and pulling it back to reveal large glass doors. "Look!"

"What is that?" He mimicked her actions with the other curtain and tied it back.

"Is that a balcony?" She pushed one of the doors open and looked outside. "It is!" She ran forward, Jefferson walking behind her. "It is huge! Look at this view!" She leaned on the smooth black railing on the edge of its sweeping semi-circular shape.

The balcony overlooked the side of the mountain opposite the forest. A deep canyon was directly below them and on the other side was a stretch of green land interrupted by more mountains beyond. No one dared pass the mountain and it looked like there were little people to be found anywhere on the rolling hills and higher peaks the moon illuminated. There were very few trees and a small river shimmered in the moonlight, lazily moseying along to the ocean on the horizon. The moon was full and no clouds could be seen blocking view of the sparkling night sky. With how clear the evening was, Christine could have sworn she could see the soaring peaks of the mountains in the center of her homeland on the horizon; she knew it was to the east, not the north where she was looking, but she entertained the thought anyway.

She stared up at the innumerable stars in wonderment. A smile spread across her face and she leaned back, holding the balcony, so she could see better. "Wow..." she whispered.

Jefferson watched her silently, looking up at the stars for a moment before his gaze returned to her. "You like stars?"

She nodded slowly as if entranced and laid down on the cold marble of the balcony, staring up with wide eyes. "I love stars..The Night sky is so beautiful, so incredible. How could one even comprehend all of this? Just look." She gestured up, her contented smile remaining.

He walked over to her and lied down next to her. "They are.." He found a small smile growing on his face and for the first time in ages everything was quiet. There was no babbling of the river crossing the hills, no rain or wind, no screaming in his mind or ringing in his ears; he was at peace.

"You know." Christine laughed quietly, almost seeming to be talking to herself. "I have always been fascinated with the heavens. I have always wanted to understand them, as unfathomable as they are. I remember when I was a little girl, I used to lie on the grass of my family's land and tell my parents that I was going to go up there." She pointed to the sky.

Jefferson had turned his head to look at her, but her gaze was fixed on the starry expanse of space. "Go where?"

She waved her hand around. "Everywhere. I have always wanted nothing more than to know as much as I can. I do not know exactly why, but it is a passion of mine to learn and be taught. I love discovering new things. I love building on what I already know," she said, not needing to raise her voice for him to hear the conviction in it, the intensity; this meant everything to her.

"I used to be like that too," he said, still looking at her. He wished he could paint or draw or somehow capture how she looked illuminated by the moon and stars, vibrant eyes wide with wonder and a dreamy smile on her face. "I wanted to see every world in existence." He looked up, lying flat on his back. "I never had a home, but I wanted to. I wanted, needed to belong somewhere..And I was willing to go anywhere I could to find that.." There was no sadness in his voice, he had accepted that as how his life was and it was true. He never wanted to admit that he had never had somewhere stable to plant his feet. He'd never had the luxury of a loving family or faithful lover to lean back on. It had always been him, and only him. Then Grace had come along and changed everything. He was a father, but he was still a lone one. He didn't know if he wanted to bring a mother figure into Grace's life now, so late, even if he did believe who he chose was worth more than the sun and stars.

"Really?" Christine turned her head to look at him. "That is terrible.."

He didn't look back at her. "I wouldn't say that. It's just how things are for me. I don't think much of it."

"When you say you have never belonged anywhere, does that mean you do not have friends either?" She sounded genuinely concerned.

"For the most part, people weigh you down when you're like me. Other than my daughter, no one else has really mattered to me." He hated that he could see through his own lies. It would be so much easier to believe them like everyone else did.

"You do not want friends? You do not want companionship at all?" She sat up, looking down at him now.

"Well..That's not something I've thought about in a long time..I guess it's nice to have people around to support you, but that's not something I've gotten to have.." He was growing irritated with her inquiries. Why should she care? She was only helping him out of guilt anyway. He refused to admit to himself how much it hurt to know that.

"If you want. You do not have to," she said hesitantly, looking out at the railing then down at him again. "I could be your friend." Then she added, sounding more bold. "I want to be your friend."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Is that so?" he said flatly.

She nodded. "Yes it is. I want to be your friend. You are a good person."

He laughed, calloused and bitter. "You don't know anything about me if you think that."

His reaction struck something in her and she shrank the smallest bit. "I want to know more about you."

He sat up. "And why is that? You want to see how useful I can be? Because I could tell you that right now."

Her shyness quickly turned to anger at that. "I do not want to use you, Jefferson. I just want you to be my friend. I like you, I really do. Why is that so hard for you to understand? If you are not used to it then just let me help you!" She was leaning forward, getting louder until she caught herself and deflated, looking down. She had to be more in control. She had been slipping up and awful lot lately, and she was too old to be making those simple mistakes.

He was taken aback by how quickly she told him how she felt. She was so fiery and honest, something he wasn't used to. He was a thief. Deception was one of his main skills, and he believed he shared that with most people. Someone like her could never survive in a world like that. He was astonished she had lasted four years already. He swallowed the knot in his throat, then spoke. "Fine. If you want to so badly, don't freak out on me." His tone was sarcastic, but when he met her eyes he knew she could see through it.

She scooted forward. "I am sorry I yelled at you. I have told you I hate when people talk down to me."

"I know," he said, then added,"I'm sorry too." He looked up at the stars. “Why is it that people change in the dark?"

She looked up at the stars then lied down again. "Maybe it is something in the night air."

He did the same. "Maybe it is. I like it."

She moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her. She closed her eyes, enjoying how nice he smelled and how safe she felt. She found his heartbeat and steady breaths so comforting.

 

Jefferson couldn't remember when he finally fell asleep, but he was quickly yanked out of it by a cold water droplet hitting his face. His eyes opened and were met with another drop. he moved to sit up and found that he was practically pinned to the balcony by a still sleeping Christine. Her face was pressed against the side of his chest and one of her legs was up and wrapped around his. Her arms were tucked in close to her and she wasn't moving. He tried to ignore the warmth he felt at feeling her pressed to him that way and woke her with a poke to her cheek. "Hey, wake up it's raining."

She shifted and made a soft noise that made his heart skip a beat. "No..."

"It's raining, Christine. You're going to get soaked." He unwrapped her leg from around his.

She rolled onto her back with a groan and sat up. "Fine..Can we go back to sleep in our room?"

He tried not to laugh at how she looked, half asleep and disheveled. "Yes we can." He stood and helped her up, walking inside and closing the balcony doors behind them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more filler, but I think in terms of the relationship between Jefferson and Christine, it is very important. They're breaking down more walls and progress will be made soon because of it. (On a personal note, this was one of my favorite chapters to write in this story because of how light and fluffy their interaction is.)

Jefferson was pacing back and forth in a sitting room of the East Wing. Ten days of non-stop studying and spell casting had passed and they had nothing to show for it. He couldn't create portals from inside here. He couldn't even go outside. The surge of magic that pulsed through him at merely passing the front door's threshold had nearly killed him. Or at least it felt like it had. He was completely useless. With every new fruitless bout of reading enough books to make his head spin, he grew more and more agitated. His skills couldn't help him at all and it was beginning to terrify him that his future was entirely in someone else's hands.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Christine, he did. She was honest and upfront about everything as far as he knew. She was trying just has hard as he was and whenever he got frustrated and teetered on the edge of losing control, she brought him back to reality and calmed him down. He couldn't blame the lack of progress on her; she was trying her best.

Running his fingers through his messy hair, he gritted his teeth. He had to do something. Something he was good at. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the wall and looked at the outfit he had made for himself. His work was clean and put together. He looked good. It struck him then what he could do. He didn't care if it wasted precious time; he felt like he was going to start slipping and he couldn't let that happen.

He walked to the spells tower and ran up the steps. "Christine!" he called out as he was entering the room.

The woman in question straightened up from where she'd been bent over a book. "Yes? What is wrong? Did something happen?" She matched his urgency and was swiftly in front of him, moving too fast to be considered human. "What is it?"

"I need you to do me a favor," he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the room.

"Oh, yes of course. What do you need?" She followed him to the North Wing.

"I've been feeling very anxious lately." He led her into a workroom he'd set up with more fabrics and tools.

"I noticed. Do you need me to help you with it?"

He shook his head. "No, I can do that myself. I just." He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fists. "I need to do something, you see? Something that I can actually do properly. My magic isn't helping and I feel as if it's going to drive me mad again." He shook his head again. "I can't let that happen."

She stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. She recalled one of the many ideas her mentor and parents had instilled in her from when she was small,"Do not say that. If you obsess over a fear it will inevitably manifest itself in your life." She squeezed his arm, seeing the dread in his face lessen. "What is it you need me to do?"

"I'm going to make something. I don't know what it is yet, but if you would permit me, I want to measure you. I could make something for myself, but it's so easy. It wouldn't keep me occupied."

"I understand. What do you need to measure? I have no problem with that." She let go of his arm when he turned and went to sift through a nearby drawer.

He pulled out a roll of measuring tape. "Your arms, chest, waist, hips, thighs, overall height-" he walked over to her, "-It won't take long. Would you mind removing your clothes? Your undergarments can stay, it's just easier to get a proper measurement that way."

She obliged, unlacing her pants and stepping out of them, then her, or rather his as he made them, vest and shirt followed suit. She waited as he bent down, measuring her thighs, then hips, working his way up until he stopped and looked at her neck.

"What is.." He trailed off and stared stared, confusion in his face.

"What?" She touched the spot he was staring at and felt nothing but skin. "What's the matter?" She tried to look at the spot he was staring at.

His eyes went wide and he hopped back a step, one of his legs popping up. "It moved! What is that doing on your skin?!"

She ran to the mirror and checked her neck. On her dark brown skin was a patch that looked like it was opened up, her skin appearing to peel away and reveal an image of the heavens. When she moved, so did the image. The marking itself was a window into the starry sky they had fallen asleep under over a week before.

He slowly walked to her, looking in the mirror at the image. "Why is it doing that?"

She turned and he flinched at seeing it move again.

"Goodness! It's so clear! How is it?" He reached for it, looking at her in a silent asking of permission.

She gave a small nod and he rubbed the stars sparkling on her skin. "That's amazing...How did you get this..?" He stared, leaning closer to get a better look.

She tilted her head to the side to let him see better. "My parents endowed me with it when I was born. Most Kartians have some sort of mark they bear on their skin. It usually has something to do with their line or a special power. Mine is the latter, and I do not know what particular power this corresponds to yet, but I will learn one day."

He continued rubbing the edges of the image, watching as it seemed to move across her skin, the size fluctuating as it shifted beneath the tips of his fingers. "It's beautiful," he murmured, then blinked as an idea came to him. "I know what I'm going to make." He straightened and grinned. "Yes, I know what I'll do." He grabbed her hand, squeezing," Oh, you're going to love it."

She smiled back at him. "Love what? What are you going to make?"

He shook his head, guiding her back to her discarded clothes. "I can't tell you. I can't tell you anything. You'll see it when I'm done and you're going to love it." He handed her the pants and shirt that had been on the floor. "Go on, get dressed and I'll call for you when it's done. You can't see any of it until it's done." He was smiling wide and went to the other side of the room where a closet full of fabric was.

She quickly dressed herself, touching the mark on her skin before turning to him. "I will be in the library, or kitchen, or our room. You will be able to find me."

He nodded, not turning to look at her. "Yes of course, now go on!" He pulled out a roll of black ribbon.

She left without another word.

 

That night Christine couldn't find a book to immerse herself in. There was too much on her mind. She knew the curse's final days were upon them and they still had yet to make any progress. She was willing to bet that if she had more help, if she had Rashanda, or her father Mencheres, or one of her other parents the curse would have been broken already. She knew she was doing something wrong, but she couldn't place it. The spells that she was using were not out of her range; in essence, she was made of raw power. She was pure energy and magic encased in a thin, fragile skin that didn't seem to fit as much as it contained her. Limited her. It was a pretty cage, but a cage nonetheless.

She had to go home soon, too. Her time away from home was coming to an end. She had a purpose that needed to be fulfilled that could not be realized in foreign lands. She needed her home with its divine magic. She needed her family's guidance. If she had them to tell her what to do like they always did, she would be so much better off. The last four years had been more than overwhelming. She was tired.

The sun rose and she sat in her windowsill, staring at the rising sun. She slid down to the floor, settling onto her knees with her arms at her sides, palms facing outward. She took a deep breath and began her morning prayer. It was one of the first her parents taught her as a child. The morning prayer for Aslemai, and the evening prayer for Catarr. She was supposed to have both. She was supposed to be a devotee of the two, not just one, even though most of her magic and prayers went to the god of light. She was always supposed to be everything at once. Lately, her prayers had become more important. She had slacked when she was tired at home, but she had stopped that once she left. Her prayers were all she had to keep her close to where she belonged. At least that's what it felt like. She prayed to them both, but she kept Aslemai closer to her heart, where she felt safest.

 

Hours passed and she was beginning to doze off when there when a loud pounding on the door brought her back to attention. It was flung open and Jefferson ran in. “It’s done!   
It’s finished!” He ran to where she was sitting on the sill and grabbed her arm, pulling her to stand up.

She smiled wide. “What is it?”

“I’ll show you, come on!”

They raced to the work room, Jefferson beating her there only because he tripped her on the way and ran to a mannequin with a dress on it.

It was a deep navy blue, with stars of all sizes dotting the front and back. The black seamless ruffles were visible from underneath in the front, where a large section of the fabric was drawn up on one side. A thick black silk ribbon wrapped around the waist and separated the bottom from the top where sparkling crystals and pearls were pressed into it. It was sleeveless and the neckline was high, curving down in a shallow swoop. On the back, more black silk that matched the large bow that hung down to the middle of a longer section in the center of the bottom's back. On the top, thin straps, also embroidered with pearls, were attached next to black lace that held It all closed.

Christine was speechless, the dress was stunning. She reached out and touched the supple navy fabric, looking closer to admire how perfectly every piece was sewn and gathered together. She slid her fingers along the ribbon and a smile spread across her face. "Jefferson.. this is amazing.." She looked up to see him ticking back and forth on his feet, his hands clasped behind him.

"You like it?" There was the tiniest hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Yes! I love it! You are amazing at this!"

The tension left him and his hesitant smile grew into one of adoration, his pupils swallowing the slate blue of his irises. He looked the dress over again with pride. "Thank you.."

She threw her arms around him, squeezing him gently. Her face tucked into his neck where his heady floral scent was the strongest. "You are so sweet." Her smile could be heard even in her voice, muffled against his cravat.

He pressed her against him, one hand gripping her shirt on her lower back, the other against her shoulder. "You deserve it.." He said quietly, breathing in the scent of her hair. The last thing he wanted to do was let go, but when he felt her grip loosen, he dropped his hands.

"Can I wear it one day?" she asked, lightly touching one of the crystals.

"Of course you can. I would love to see you in it."

She traced the curve of the neckline. "This is perfect.."

"I wouldn't let you have anything less." It slipped before he could catch himself. His heart leapt into his throat.

"I promise none of this will go to waste.. I am getting you out of here," she said softly. I'm getting you out if it kills me..

"I know you will." He reached out, gently taking her hand and feeling his panic fade. He was going to be fine. He was sure of it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine finally learns the dark secret behind the curse and her own life. She has a choice to make, but she doesn't know if she has the strength do to so. Jefferson ponders their situation and may be coming to terms with his own emotions.

The next couple of days were spent back in the spells tower. Christine had gone through her own notes from her studies at home regarding Catarr. She reviewed what prayers to it she did know while Jefferson set out searching for more spells they could try to cast; he was still focusing on barriers and breaking them. They spent hours together, but not a lot was said until Christine dropped a massive book with a carved wooden cover on the table they studied on.

"I found it!" she said triumphantly,"I can't believe this is here. This book, or the other one of it, is in the temple of my homeland. I've only gotten a glimpse of the other one, but I think this is what we need. My uncle probably used the other one to cast the original spell."

Jefferson looked up, then was quickly at her side. "Is that so?" He ran his fingers over the elaborate wood carving. He couldn't make out the words around the sign that represented what he guessed was a spirit of some kind. How can we use this?"

Christine opened the book and scanned over the symbols covering the page. "This is the oldest language of my people. Only we Kartians know how to read it," she waved her hand dismissively,"I'll see what information I can gather from it."

Jefferson squinted at the page. "None of those are words.." He leaned in and looked closer, shaking his head. "That's all nonsense writing."

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Did you hear what I said? Only my people can read it. And even then, not that many can read it well. It's normally easier to learn the modern vernacular, not the ancient tongue." She began to carefully leaf through the weathered pages. "You don't have to watch me, this is going to take a while."

He walked to the small window. "It's getting late. Do you want to eat supper before you set in on trying to decipher all of that?" He turned to look back at her and saw that she was already leaning on the table, eyes scanning back and forth on the pages in front of her. "Or I'll just leave you some for later?"

She nodded once and didn't look up when he left.

As she read, Christine took mental note of what she already knew. Kartians were nearly as old as the world they lived in. They were said to be the descendants of the first sentient beings to inhabit the Enchanted Forest realm. When one of the beings, a man named Cain, broke the laws of their gods, Aslemai and Catarr, they were punished with damnation from the other beings. Their land was cut off from the main ones. Fear would follow them everywhere they went regardless of who they were, so long as they were Kartian, or in the words of the Mainlanders who despised them, Cainanite, it didn't matter to anyone. They would be completely isolated and alone in their world.

However, her people and their gods believed in balance of light and dark, of good and evil. Both were dependent on the other and both were needed. Kartonoch and its natives were dammed, yes, but they were also made more powerful to make up for it. Others feared them, and they were shunned in their early days, but as time passed, they learned to harness power that no other beings could. They grew strong and used the fear of those around them to shape their nation as they saw fit. Some were benevolent and created great things, discovered spells that saved lives, or allied with each other to create lines that welcomed humans who had nowhere else to go. Others wrought pain, death, and destruction, and as was the way of their curse as a collective, only the stories of the malevolent survived the unforgiving passage of time. Catarr was the Kartian God known by all. Only the shadow. Only the bringer of darkness was paid any mind. And even then, what the god truly signified, what it truly stood for, was ignored in favor of causing more fear.

Christine pored over the spells she found. One caught her eye and as she read it, her blood ran cold. It was a spell of creation. Creation of life. On the pages regarding it she found dates, times, and even a chart of stars all pointing her to one conclusion; she was born of the gods themselves. Her power drew from the heavens, and she would bear the privilege of divinity as she grew into her abilities. In time she would become legendary, a being of prophecy, strength, and superiority.

This was not news to her; she had known all her life that she was special. She had always know that she had a purpose that was far higher than herself or her family. It was why she was gifted with her magic, why her parents moved her all over her home country to see every region, why her entire childhood had been consumed in studies and lessons.  
What sent chills down her spine was the price for her power, her ability, her very life.

All of the good she received must inevitably be countered by something. There must be an evil to every good, such is the way of the universe. The price for her life to exist was that of another be sacrificed to to Catarr. Any individual condition could be put on the sacrifice, but whomever the victim was, they must go to Catarr lest the creator of the life, and the life given be punished.

Her uncle as she thought of him, the creator of the curse, was one of the highest and oldest of the guild dedicated to Catarr. His life had spanned millennia beside that of her father and she knew that he had been alongside many in her family to create her in the first place. Her parents, her father, must have bestowed upon her great power while her uncle had chosen the sacrifice. It didn't say anywhere who the sacrifice be, only that it be made before the life coming out of it reached its full power. This date was individual and   
in her case, was the night of the seventeenth year of the curse. The day could have been anytime. It didn't have to be preceded by such extended suffering by the victim. The length of the curse, the castle, the barriers, it was all excessive on purpose. That could not have been her father's doing, none of her fathers could be so cruel; nor were her mothers so vicious.

Regardless of who was responsible, the fact remained; Jefferson was the sacrifice.

Her reading became more frantic then, and she read page after page searching for a way out. There had to be a way that she could offer someone else, bargain with the God, or use something in her power to break the curse before its completion. She found over and over again that the most powerful magic of the realm could be strong enough, but no details were given. As she read on and on she felt worse and worse, growing sick with her panic. She had promised to save him and his daughter, she had to, she could never forgive herself for destroying her friend's life in the name of power she could barely wield.

Hours passed and exhaustion began to weigh on her when her sickness vanished all at once, the curse, the sacrifice could be averted but only at a price greater than what was initially intended. If magic powerful enough managed to break the spell, the creators of the curse and being as well as the beneficiary, would pay. Two with their lives, and the other with an aspect of their self. She knew what this meant for her and her family, but a promise was a promise.

Sleep took her just as she began to ponder her next step and her eyes shut, her head resting on the open book.

 

Jefferson stuck a needle into his pincushion. After dinner he'd gone to his workroom and made more clothes for himself and Christine. He knew it was pointless, but it kept him busy and out of his own head, so he went on for hours. Shirts, vests, pants, and dresses began to collect on the floor around him. As the room got darker, he lit several candles and continued working. His mind wandered away when his muscle memory kicked in and his hands worked all on their own.

What would he do if he did get out? He had to make his home with Grace again and help her if she'd gone just as sideways as he had. Where was she? His hands stopped unconsciously and he felt his stomach sinking. The mirror in the West Wing could show him anything he wanted to see, but whenever he asked for Grace the image was too foggy to tell where she was. He had searched every inch of the castle for her more times than he could ever have counted by then. A nagging voice in his head reminded him that e wasn't even really sure that she was alive, but he refused to dwell on the possibility. His mind shifted gears and he found himself pondering another question: If he was going to get out and make a new home with her, what would that mean for Christine?

Whenever he was near her he still felt that strong pull urging him to get closer. Sitting by her side wasn't enough to stop the feeling, talking to her didn't stop it, casting spells with her did nothing. At night, however, when the castle was still and silent as death, he felt most at peace because she was there. Most nights she ended up wrapped around him, her presence putting him to sleep even when he wasn't tired.

In every world he had been in thus far, there was always someone that he felt a connection with. He somehow knew that they would affect his life in some significant way whether it was good for him or bad. The feeling was always there, but he had never felt this kind of intense pull to someone before. It bothered him that he couldn't stop or control it because he knew exactly what it meant. There was no way someone like her, a brilliant scholar and powerful sorceress so full of light and benevolence, could ever feel love for him. He was proud, cunning, smart, and resourceful, but his past was so dark. Deep down he knew he wasn't trustworthy, or gracious, or worthy of her goodwill.

She wanted to be his friend, but she didn't know anything about him. She felt that he was deserving of a second chance even though he had tried to steal from her people. Every time he watched her drain herself of energy studying and casting spells to save his life he felt worse about what he was putting her through. He wanted her to stop, to leave him behind and do something worthwhile. He wanted to yell and scream because it was hopeless, because no matter how hard they both tried, nothing worked. He needed to press her as close as he could and wake up every day to her lovely smile. He wanted her so badly even though he knew he could and should never have her.

His thoughts were interrupted by a crash shattering the quiet of the night. He rose to his feet. He ran to the kitchen and found the Brown Rabbit tripping over pots and pans scattered all over the floor. He sighed and pulled the laughing, shaking creature to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing up at this time?" he demanded.

The laughing didn't stop. "They were calling me, you see. They called me and they fell and now they've fallen and they won't call me anymore." He allowed himself to be dragged to the nearest sitting room and when Jefferson let go he fell to the ground in a heap of giggles. "They called you too!"

Jefferson watched the laughing rabbit for a moment before leaving and closing the door. He returned to the kitchen and cleaned up the mess of pots and pans. Was I ever that far gone..?...I don't want to know.. He spotted the cake that he'd made the day before with a glass cover on it. He cut himself a slice then cut a second one and put it on a plate. He took it to the room he and Christine shared and put it on the night table, eating his own as he went. Licking his fingers, he walked to the spells tower to check on her and found her asleep with her face resting on the open book. She was nearly falling off at that point and he ran over. He picked her up, leaning her head on his shoulder, and carried her down the steps. On his way back to their room, he looked down and felt an almost painful swelling in his chest.

She was so precious, so pure. It killed him to think that she was risking so much in his name. He wanted to tell her it wasn't worth it. That he wasn't worth it, but he knew she wouldn't listen.

He lied her down on the bed and covered her, taking a moment to brush her dark hair out of her face and stood. He left and closed the door behind him, returning to his workroom.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine makes a desperate attempt to save Jefferson again and fails.

There wasn’t much time left. The darkness was closing in, surrounding Christine as she fought ferociously against it. Her ears rang with the deafening roar of death's eternal silence and her eyes were blind with the blackness threatening to swallow her. She was good and full of light, but for every ounce of goodness there was in her, there was the same for the evil devouring the world around her. Fighting was hopeless, resistance was futile, she was equally matched with the being that absorbed every blow she delivered and yet, it couldn't take her completely. She knew she would not fall at the feet of her tormentor.

Who she was fighting for, however, was not so lucky. All at once, her ears were seared with the sound of a scream. Broken and full of desperation, her body ached unbearably. She knew there was no way she could win on her own. Fear cracked her concentration and she could feel the darkness around her seeping into her skin, the scream grew louder and she could fight no more.

When her eyes snapped open, tears spilled down Christine's cheeks. Her head was spinning, and she could feel traces of ghost pains all over her body. She sat up and realized that she was no longer in the spells tower. She had been tucked into her bed. She looked around, seeing that she was alone and thought that perhaps she'd walked there in her sleep. She caught sight of the cake on her night table and dismissed that notion completely; Jefferson had brought her there some time during the night. The thought of him finding her and taking his time to care for her when was probably tired already made sickening sadness that had been resting like a stone in her gut unfurl and seize her.  
For the first time in months she was forced to dwell on the idea that success was not at all guaranteed. There was no proof that she was in fact powerful enough to break the curse, let alone strong enough on her own make the decision to kill her own father and uncle. She could pretend and reassure all she wanted but she was not ready to pay the price for what she had set out to accomplish.

Her throat burned and tears stung her eyes as she finally fell apart, sobbing on her hands and knees with her fingers curled into the thick fabric of the bed's comforter. Her chest heaved with gasps for air she did not need that did nothing to alleviate the feeling that she was going to suffocate right then and there. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, unable to stop the tears gushing from them. She did not know how she would be able to live knowing that her life had cost that of someone she had come to love. How could she ever wield power knowing that it had destroyed someone? She knew she could never do it. She also knew that she could not give up either. When lives were at stake, failure was not an option regardless of the odds. The swell of terror that had been with her since waking was quelled by a surge of anger and determination. She sucked in several shaky breaths, more for how it felt than because she needed the air. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. She had to keep going. Time was of the essence now. She needed to make real progress by any means necessary.

Standing on unsteady feet, she walked to her satchel and pulled out a long black dress. It was made of a sleek, pure black fabric that clung tightly to her skin when she put it on. The length of it passed her feet and fanned out on the floor. The front of it covered her chest and neck but left her back exposed except for a trail of golden stars that covered the backs of her shoulders where the image of the heavens on her skin began to grow along the line of her spine, spreading in growing strands to cover her. She stared herself down in the vanity mirror and stood straight, her eyes and necklace beginning to glow when she turned away and left to the tower where the darkness resided. Gripped in her hand was a silver knife. Its black handle allowed for a good grip and its engraved and curved blade was for the sole purpose of performing rituals.

She walked up the tower steps, casting a light in front of her to ward off the darkness that had freed itself from the walls where she had forced them to take refuge the first time she had gone. When she reached the room at the top, her light burst and once again trapped the inky blackness in the floor, ceiling, and walls. Carved into the floor, the sign of Catarr ominously remained; a constant reminder of who she was pitting herself against. And another parent of hers no less, although it was different from the ones who raised her. She walked to the center of the sign and dropped to one knee, raising her knife. She plunged it into her chest, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out at the scorching fire of pain the blade sent into her body. She drew it out slowly, not wanting to scorch her nerves with more flames.

Thick blood poured from the wound that she willed to stay open immediately and fell into the outline of the carving. She lowered the knife and began to speak, her tongue twisting and turning to recite the ancient spells she had read the night before. She challenged Catarr to go against her will to break the curse, dared it to stomp out her light, cried out for the admonitions of a divine creator.

Not a moment after the last words fell from her lips, the glittering black blood pouring from her stopped and the wound closed up. The room morphed and twisted around her, spikes grew from the walls and inched toward her as the blood she'd spilled lost its sparkle, turning as black as the floor it had fallen on. A bloodcurdling roar ripped out of the sign she remained kneeling on, and the carving rose up into walls that trapped her as the spikes continued to grow.

Christine's eyes glowed white to match the moon dangling on the chain around her neck and rays of light burst from her skin, burning holes in the walls that were closing in. She rose off the floor, more and more light coming from her until she was freed. As the light expanded, the spikes that came in contact with it fell and shattered before melting into the ground. She rose toward the ceiling and was impaled on a spike, a scream tearing out of her when tentacles of malice pushed further into her and she fell on the sign still on the floor. Her light stopped growing just in time to fend off the darkness in her before she lost consciousness.

 

A scream woke Jefferson who had been slumped against a chair in his workroom. He had worked all through the night after leaving Christine in their room and must have dozed off while in the middle of sewing. He bolted up and ran out into the hall. He could feel her aura pulling him toward her in the tower on the other side of the wing.

The castle was nearly pitch black and his mind was growing fuzzy around the edges as he ran toward the source of the chilling sound. Something was very wrong. Had she awoken something dangerous? Had she broken the curse? Or had a worse fate befallen her?

He raced up the smooth black spiral steps and froze when he saw her on the floor. She didn't appear to be bleeding or appeared injured, thank the gods, but he couldn't see her moving either. He slid to her side, pulling her limp body into his lap, then grunted as he rose to his feet with her in his arms. He ran back down the steps, there was evil in that room and staying a second longer was not something he was willing to do. He fell to his knees in the middle of the hall, holding her and pressing his fingers to her neck. He could feel no heartbeat, but there was a buzzing present beneath her skin that made the worst of his terror subside. She was alive. Her mouth was hanging open and he held a hand above it, feeling no breath against his palm. He had never noticed before that she didn't breathe. With how human she looked and how kind she was, he often forgot what she was.

He tried to speak, but fear had dried his throat. It took several swallows before he could make any sound. "Christine?" There was no response. He pulled her closer against his chest, rubbing her bare shoulder. "Christine please..I know you're in there. Wake up for me?" He ignored the fire in his throat and tears burning his eyes. He sucked in a breath. 

"Come on, please? You know I still need you, right? You can't let it win. You're stronger than this, I know you are." A tear fell on her cheek and he leaned his forehead against it, clutching her tightly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry I did this to you. You should know better than to do this all for me. Please don't leave me here."

Several agonizing moments passed before he felt her shift, trying to escape his grip. Her eyes flew open, a hand flying up to press against the middle of her chest.  
He raised his head and smiled wide, his eyes red. "Christine!" He squeezed her tightly and she winced.

"Jefferson, please let me go," she rasped, and when he obliged, she fell onto the rug with a squeak of pain. Her arms crossed over her chest as she tried to regain control of herself. Everything was burning. Her eyes squeezed shut and she curled up.

"Christine what happened? I heard you screaming, what did you do?" He pulled her back into his lap, ignoring her wince at being touched.

"I challenged Catarr. It was not happy," she managed to choke out. Of course it wasn't. It was blasphemous for her to even consider what she had just done, but her existence was blasphemous in the eyes of many anyway.

Jefferson looked her over, almost frantic. "What hurts? Do you need bandages?"

"No. That will not help."

"There has to be something! What if you're really hurt?!" he practically sobbed, rubbing his hands over her to find a wound somewhere.

"I can heal myself..But I do not have the energy..After that.." she said, her words spaced out unevenly as she squeezed her eyes shut again.

He looked at her, wide-eyed and on the verge of tears again. "What do you need to get energy? Do you need to eat something? Is there a spell you need?"  
She shook her head slowly.

"What is it that you-" The realization dawned on him and reached up, removing his cravat. He pulled down the collar of his shirt.

Her eyes opened halfway and when she saw what he was doing she tried to sit up. "No. No I cannot do that to you. You do not want me to."

He pulled her to him, raising her head and resting it on his shoulder. "I'm offering it to you, I'm not going to let you stay like this in so much pain. You need to heal and I'm going to help you." His tone made it clear that there would be no negotiating. He tilted his head to give her access to the pale skin of his exposed neck, marred by that single, long scar.

"Promise you will tell me when to stop.." She reached up and slid a hand around the back of his head. She opened her mouth wider and bared a pair of long fangs that she pierced his neck with. Blood rushed into her mouth and she drank deeply of the intoxicating liquid. The searing pain in her chest began to ebb and she gripped his hair, pressing closer to him. She sank her fangs deeper into his skin and drops of his blood dribbled out of the side of her mouth. Blissful warmth spread inside of her, urging her to continue, to take more until there was nothing left. 

A soft whimper reminded her of where she was and she cut her tongue on one of her fangs, licking the two puncture wounds that were still oozing and closed them. She licked her lips, swallowing the last of the luscious fluid before she let go.

Jefferson was still in ecstasy. Her bite hadn't been as painful as he expected. On the contrary, a rush of euphoria overtook him when she began drinking. Instead of feeling more drained after every swallow, it felt like she was feeding him every time she sucked more out of him. Pure molten heat spread throughout his body and his head fell back all on its own. He gripped her as soon as she stopped and he moaned out a distressed protest,"You don't have to stop."

She sat up," Jefferson, are you with me? Are you okay?" She sounded like herself again, but was still clearly concerned.

"I'm here." He blinked a couple of times, exhaling heavily.

"Good." She moved to stand as he let go of her. "I am sorry I had to-"

"Don't be sorry." He chuckled and picked up his cravat. "That felt a lot better than it should have." He stood and looked down the hall. "Please promise me you won't ever go in there again."

She sighed and nodded. "Fine..I'll find another way."

He held a hand out to her and she took it, walking back to their room where they lied down to rest properly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is up. Christine makes the ultimate sacrifice and pays the price for the feelings she has developed for Jefferson.

As if the sky itself knew that the time had come, black clouds gathered around the mountain the morning of the deadline day. The castle had been darker on the inside as the days had passed, and now it seemed mostly devoid of light all the time. At midnight that night the curse would finally be complete.

Jefferson had convinced Christine to sleep the night before despite her insisting that rest was a waste of precious time. In all honesty, he hadn't been tired at all; he had just wanted to hold her and maybe dream one last time before his long life came to an end. He truly hated himself for giving up so completely, but there was no other choice that he saw, no way to cheat his way out, no way for him to escape. He could only be thankful for her effort and care and for making his final months feel like they had been spent well. When he woke, he felt extraordinarily heavy and lethargic. He had indeed fallen asleep, but was not blessed with a pleasant dream to send him off. He looked down and saw Christine had rolled over to cling to him sometime in the night. Her head was resting on his shoulder and one of her hands was clutching the silk of his nightshirt. She had tangled their legs together and her eyes snapped open the second he tried to move.

Now that they were both awake, the peaceful veil of sleep gave way to a growing sense of dread that raised them both to their feet. Christine was almost instantly across the room and dawning the dress she had worn during her attack days earlier, her face set in a grave scowl; she knew exactly what could come of the day, but it was in her nature to fight no matter what.

Jefferson, on the other hand, was having trouble keeping his eyes open as he changed out of his pajamas and into his regular clothes, pulling his coat over it all to stop the chills racing up and down his spine. He trudged to the spells tower with Christine and helped her re-organize the books that they had left out. She wasted no time in flipping through the pages, searching for something he couldn't muster up the effort to care about. On some level he knew it was wrong of him to let her do all of the work, but he was completely useless. As she leaned over the books, her eyes scanning over the pages with a silent panicked urgency that made him more nervous. She did not think that she could really do it, did she? The only magic that could help him was not possible for them to use in this place He ended up wandering through the aisles between the tall bookshelves, occasionally peeking out to find her in the same place.

Perhaps if they had met under different circumstances it could be possible that their relationship would change. Maybe they would have been something other than friends. Maybe she would hate hated him and his lack of morality, his lack of compassion for others, his inability to match her in any way. Maybe he could have called her a mother for Grace.

He walked to the secret door in the wall and opened it, walking through the pitch black halls to the room he knew his hat was still in. He picked it up and flipped it up in his fingers to rest on his head. He allowed himself a small smile and walked back through the halls, listening to the quiet clicking of his tall leather boots on the marble floor.

As soon as he passed the threshold of the tower, he was greeted by Christine who was holding a book. "Oh you brought the hat! Good! Come with me." She grabbed his hand and tugged him to the table where the books were where he had seen them last. "I might be able to ask for the blessing of the god who counters Catarr. There is a small chance it could help."

He nodded and followed her to the back of the tower where there was more space. She turned a few pages in the book and laid it down on the floor, then sat on the floor in front of it. She leaned forward and scanned over the words then sat up straight and rested her hands on her knees. She closed her eyes, the image of space on her skin spreading across the line of her spine. An aura of light surrounded her, making Jefferson raise a hand to shield his eyes.

She began speaking, her words incomprehensible as they echoed throughout the chamber. Her light grew brighter and voice louder until he ended up having to back away. It could have been minutes or hours before the light finally faded and she grew silent. He couldn't read her expression when she shut the book and stood.

"Well?" He sounded more urgent than he intended. "What did they say?"

She looked down at the book, her lips pursed. She sighed. "I..I made a bargain with it..It is the lesser of two evils, I think, but I have to meet it halfway." She walked to the table and put the book down.

"What does that mean? Halfway where?" He left little space between them, wanting to reach out and clutch her shoulders for support.

"You know that with magic there is always a price, right?"

He nodded. "Yes of course, always."

"The price for breaking this curse is three things." She leaned against the table, crossing her arms. "The creators of the curse itself must pay with their lives, which is two. And whoever is breaking it must become the source of the magic's new host."

His eyes widened. "What? What do you mean 'host'? What is this going to do to you?" He gripped her arms. "Christine, please don't do this, you can't."

"I must, Jefferson. I cannot just let you and your daughter die. It does not matter to me what you've done, the last fifteen years have been more than enough punishment. I am going to break this curse."

He squeezed her," But why?! Why would you risk so much for a man you barely know?!" He dropped his hands, clenching his fists. He turned away from her, his shoulders hunched and shaking.

"I am doing it because you're my friend." She paused briefly, her next words dying on her tongue. She reached up and touched his shoulder. "Jefferson, please. This is something I have to do. I do not understand why you are so against it. Do you not want you and your daughter to live?"

He tensed when she touched him and several moments of silence stretched between them before he quietly said. "Of course I want to live! I want my daughter back! I want my life back. But..," he trailed off and turned to face her, his eyes watery, "I don't know if I could stand living if you had to pay for it. I don't understand why you're doing all of this for me. It can't just be in the name of justice or redeeming your family. There has to be more, but either way I shouldn't be worth that much to you. Why don't you just leave me in the mess I made for myself?"

It was so insidious, so small and subtle at first that she didn't notice the change in the energy around them when she spoke. Their time was up. "Of course there is more, you mean a lot to me. You are my friend." Every time she said it she felt worse. She saw how his jaw clenched as if he had just been slapped and yet she went on. "I cannot let you die. I cannot let you be sacrificed in my name." It slipped out before she could stop herself and a hand flew up to cover her mouth.

"What? What do you mean sacrifice?" He pulled her hand away from her mouth. "Christine if there's something I should know, please tell me."

She couldn't meet his gaze and hers dropped to the floor. Her eyes widened and she stared at his feet. "No." It was barely a whisper, but it resonated with panic and despair.

He froze, his grip on her hand tightening painfully. "What is it?" He looked down and saw the black stone of the floor melting and climbing up to cover the boots on his feet.

"Wait, what time is it??" She looked up and out the window. "It cannot be! I could have sworn we-"

"There's no more time." His voice shook and he gripped her when she tried to turn around. "We ran out, Christine." He stared at the inky blackness swallowing up his feet, then reaching up to his legs, piercing the leather of his pants to seep into his skin. His eyes squeezed shut as pain shot through his body. He clutched her shoulders for support when he felt his knees were going to give out. "It's all done. I'm so sorry." He managed to grit out through clenched teeth.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and she held onto him. "No wait! Please! Do not, I can stop it!" She tried to step back and he yanked her closer, his legs were nearly covered in the blackness she'd fought off several times before. His face was pinched in a grimace and his breathing was ragged.

"Just stay, please..I need you here.." It was getting harder for him to speak.

"I am here, I will not leave you." She tried not to look down and see that tentacles of black were reaching up toward his torso now, making his gasp with pain.

His eyes watered and he pressed his face into her neck, trying to get a hold of his ragged breathing. "I'm so sorry..I'm sorry.." he whimpered, his tears soaking into the fabric of her dress.

"No Jefferson, do not be. I should have done something more. I am-"

"I love you so much and now I failed and all of our time is up.." he sobbed.

She froze, her gaze locked on the dark window. She had heard wrong. She had to. There was no way he just said that.

"I love you and I thought I couldn't.." He said it again, his grip on her tightening as he shook violently, sobbing hard. "It's such a waste..You're so perfect and you wasted it all on me.."

The blackness reached up and was nearing his heart; she knew it was killing him. "How could you think that? I love you, Jefferson. I am so sorry I could not stop this." She said it softly, afraid of what she was finally admitting to herself. She had found one of the most precious things in the world and now she was going to lose it forever, knowing that in all her power she still failed.

He cried out, struggling to gasp for air as his lungs were squeezed to the point of bursting.

Neither of them noticed the light that was now coming from her until it erupted, burning the blackness consuming him. It formed an aura that lit everything around her in a pure white glow and illuminated the sight of a small black orb rolling toward her on the floor.

Jefferson coughed, still holding on tightly to her as he regained his ability to move and breathe. He looked down at the orb then jerked back when it flew up, morphing into a spike that pierced the center of her chest.

Christine fell to her knees, screaming as her skin was torn and burned along with the fabric covering her chest. And outline formed in the center of her chest, her dark skin branded with the sign of Catarr as the aura surrounding her retreated into the image of the heavens still on her back. The outline of it was white now and just as clearly visible as the symbol over her heart. She took several deep breaths, her eyes tightly shut with the pain of the burning as it faded into a dull ache.

 

Hundreds of miles away, in the East where few dared to travel, a single man wandered through the tunnels carved out of the massive tree and building complex that he called home. He and his family. One of them was missing, but he knew where she was. He walked outside and leaped up into the branches of the tree with inhuman grace, walking along the branches until he reached the top where the branches weaved into one another tightly enough to create a room. One that had not been lived in for four years.

He lied down on the bed of blankets and pillows that took up half the room, and closed his eyes. The blackness that had been seeping out of the floor and following him for the length of his walk finally grew and enveloped him, piercing and melting his skin into it. He was going to miss his spouses, and his apprentice, and his people, but he had seen this coming and planned accordingly. He had spent time with the ones he loved the most. He had granted many long-held wishes that they harbored. He had not wasted a single moment.

Behind his eyes, he could see his daughter, his precious prodigy, lying on the ground as he was, in pain as he was, but he did not worry. He knew she would live, just as he knew he would not. His only regret was that she would not get to say goodbye like her family had. He hoped he would get to see her again one day, when she was great. When she was all that she was meant to be. He was going to miss her. 

Christine took several deep breaths, her eyes tightly shut with the pain of the burning as it faded into a dull ache. A few tears escaped from her eyes as the image of her father lying in her bed and being torn apart by the darkness that had tried to take Jefferson faded from her mind. That was the last she would ever see of him.

 

Jefferson knelt beside her, pulling her to him. "Christine? What did that thing do to you?! Are you alright?" he settled her in his lap, staring down at the sign burnt into her skin in horror.

She opened her eyes, now watery. "I am alive..It took what it wanted..I will be okay.."

He held her tight. "I thought I was going to lose you."

She slid her arms around his neck, squeezing him. She needed him to hold her together now. If he let go, she would shatter. "I thought I was going to lose you..I was so scared..I am so sorry I let all of that happen.."

He inhaled deeply, his face tucked into her neck again. "Don't be. We still have each other, right?" He sounded unsure and when he met her eyes as she pulled back, his left eye twitched.

She smiled at him, and it pierced her face with pain. "Yes. Yes we do." Even in her agony, she couldn't help but feel that somehow it was worth it when she looked at him. She hoped her father would forgive her one day.

An adoring smile spread across his face and he drew her closer. She was so much more than he could have ever asked for. Perhaps now he would finally have a real family with her and his Crimson. "Can I kiss you? Please? I don't want to-"

She slid her hands around to hold his face and pressed their lips together, still feeling a buzz when they came in contact. She felt him melt under her and a warmth that she had been denying the presence of for weeks finally filled her. It covered the numbness for the moment.

Jefferson broke the gentle kiss moments later and leaned his forehead against hers, still smiling. "I love you," he whispered.

She smiled back at him. "I love you, too." She kissed his nose and giggled, nearly delirious.

He started laughing and squeezed her tight, closing his eyes.

Out from their embrace rushed a wave of color, the manifestation of their love escaping the tower room and passing through walls and floors. It banished the darkness in the castle walls and exterior, melting away the dark mineral appearance to reveal a construction that resembled the main land kingdoms.

Christine was the first to stand, drawing Jefferson up with both hands. They held still for a moment, frozen and overwhelmed. Their eyes were alight as they took in the sight of each other. They had survived. They had accomplish the impossible. They had won.

This battle was the first of many to come, but they believed were ready to face the future. They would survive again; they would accomplish the impossible again; they would win again. They had to. She knew her fate was not only coming for her, but for them both.


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson finally reunites with his daughter and Christine finally gets to meet her.

The curse was gone, shattered. Or it should have been. The castle was completely altered, both inside and out, now brighter and more inviting. The walls no longer sucked the light out of everything that surrounded them, and the windows no longer blocked the outside world out. The barrier outside was gone, the rest of the world now welcome to the magnificent mountain.

The people inside were also irreversibly changed. 

Jefferson's magic had returned completely. It was visible in him now. His eyes were brighter, their colors more pronounced. His energy had returned, and it seemed like he couldn't keep still anymore. The spark of magic that resided in him, present since he was born, was no longer dormant. It was alive. He was alive. 

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the Cainanite that had brought about his return. The malicious spirit that had been summoned to the castle to make the barrier possible, to drain Jefferson of his essence and very life, to darken every corner and crevice of the palace, had not left. It had returned to its place of origin to take the two lives it was promised, and now had a new home inside of Christine. It had entered her body, branded her, and it was there to stay. This perfect contrast of complete dark to her light was a part of her now. It was too soon to know what consequences that would have for her in the future, but she knew that it would. This was what she was meant for.

When he felt like he was in his right mind again, Jefferson looked at the burned off section of her dress that began just beneath her collarbones and ended above the curves in her chest. The mark was pitch black, darker than her skin, and the lines of it were raised like his scar. He was running his fingertips over it before he realized he was touching her. 

"What is this? What does it mean?" He looked from the brand to her face, searching for an answer. Instead he felt her hand cover his.

"I do not know yet, but that does not matter now. We can figure it out later," she blinked as she said it and he wondered if her gaze had gotten a bit darker. He had seen her cry before, but he assumed that was from the attack. He could see something was still deeply paining her, and it made his heart sink.

"Christine, this doesn't seem like a good thing. I don't want you to get hur-"

She cut him off with a squeeze of his hand,"I am okay. It did not hurt me." That was a blatant lie, but she knew what would get his attention. "We have to find your daughter, remember? You need to take care of her first." 

The reminder nearly floored him and she heart his pulse speed up. The foggy images of the pretty girl that had haunted him for so long were clear as day now. His daughter, the light of his life, she was alive. She was going to live now. He turned his hand to grip hers. "Oh gods, Grace." He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke again,"Do you think she's here? Could she have been here this whole time?"

"I believe she is. She must be close. That would have furthered your suffering. I know it is terrible to say, but I know the people who did this. They would have wanted that," Christine said, her voice carefully controlled.

Tears sprang from Jefferson's eyes and turned them a lighter shade of blue. "You're right. Will you come with me? She needs to meet you." He so desperately wanted to tell her that she was going to have a mother. That he was finally trying to make up for his mistakes, but he couldn't guarantee it. He was forcing this all on her and he knew it. What kind of good father would do that? What kind of good father would force a new life on an unwilling child?

Christine cupped his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb and reveling in the electric spark that passed between them. "Do not get angry with yourself now, Jefferson. You have done the best you could her whole life. She must know and appreciate that. I understand your fear, but I will not go with you right away. She wants to see you, not me. You are her father. I am sure she has missed you very much. I will join you once I change, though. Are you okay with that?"

She was so gracious. So kind. He closed his eyes and leaned his face into her hand as she rubbed his cheek, wondering how in the world he had managed to convince her he was worthy of her. "Yes. You're right. I need to see her." He opened his eyes and he straightened. "You'll be able to find me, I'm sure."

She nodded. "Of course." She offered him a smile that he returned right away.

He grabbed her shoulders and pressed their lips together, a jolt shooting through both of them at the contact, then pulled away a moment later. "I love you," he said, then turned around and bolted out of the room. He nearly tripped down in the stairs in his mad dash out of the tower and scrambled down the halls toward the room he had always gone to when he had needed to mourn the loss of his daughter. When he had needed to mourn the only family he had ever had. 

The room was just as he remembered it; a large bed covered in stuffed rabbits, cats, bears and more, soft colors on everything from the walls to the rugs on the floor to the bedspread and the paintings on the walls, the bookshelf filled with teacups and teapots that he could have sworn were the same ones she had painted when she was a little girl, a large, open window with pretty pink curtains, and a desk with the wood painted white. It was all the same, except for the girl sitting on the window sill in place of the flower he had always been entranced by. 

She was just as beautiful as he remembered; her skin was fair like his and her mother's, her nonexistent mother, her hair was far lighter than his, though some sections of brown were visible in the sheet of sunny blond hair she had. Her eyes were dark like her eyebrows and lashes, and she had a delicate face with a rounded nose and adorable pink lips. The magic of the castle had even blessed her with a beautiful blue silk dress to wear. She was the most beautiful thing in the entire world to him. 

"Papa?" she asked in a small voice that snapped him out of his stupor and had him rushing to the windowsill where she was still sitting, a large blue silk cloth coiled around her. 

He knelt at her feet as though overcome with need to pray. He seemed almost afraid to touch her as his excitement at finally seeing her again overwhelmed him. His hands were clutched against his chest as his heart pounded in it. "Grace," was the only thing he could manage to choke out. His eye twitched as he wrung his hands in front of him. "My dear Grace. I'm so happy you're alive."

"Alive? Papa, what are you talking about?" She glanced over her shoulder at the mountain and forest beyond. "And where are we?"

His lip trembled as he tried to bring himself under control. It was apparent that the curse had not tormented her as it had done to him. She had simply been asleep. She had been turned into a blue morning glory that had bloomed for all those years he had been going mad with the grief of destroying her. Even in that twisted darkness, she had remained beautiful. 

"We're in a castle in the Merovignian Kingdom. We've been here for seventeen years," he said in a hushed voice, as if he would frighten her away by speaking too loudly.

She down stared at him in shock. "What? How can that be? We're supposed to be at home. You went off to Wonderland to fetch something and left me at home because we were baking and I had to watch the oven," she shook her head all the while she spoke,"You said you were coming right back." She suddenly got quieter,"I was waiting to see what you would bring me once you got home." 

Jefferson's eyes overflowed with tears and he curled in on himself, his breaths shaky and irregular. "I know," he whispered,"I know sweetie. I was supposed to come right back." His chest tightened and he could have sworn this was so much more painful than the dark spirit of the castle destroying him from the inside out just minutes before, or even slowly but surely losing his mind all alone in this gigantic gilded prison. "I left to get something small, but I made a mistake and you almost paid for it with your life." He had known that the entire time, but gods, saying it out loud to her felt like it would kill him. 

Grace felt her heart break at seeing her father this way. He was in so much pain and even though she had no idea why, she couldn't just sit idly by and watch him. She slid off the sill. She wrapped her arms around his bent form as best as she could. "It's okay, Papa. You made a mistake, but nothing bad happened. I forgive you." It was the first thing that came to mind and in her heart she knew it was right, even if she didn't know where she was or what had happened over apparently seventeen years. 

Jefferson shuddered, trying to keep any sobbing to a minimum. He was supposed to be the strong one and there he was collapsing while his child had to pick up the pieces. How pathetic of him. He took a deep breath that seared his throat and lungs, and wiped his face. "I'm sorry, my dear. I just haven't been very well." He looked at her, the candles in the room making her skin appear almost orange. "Do you remember the castle in Wonderland we always had to stay away from?"

She held onto his shoulders and met his eyes. He always said they looked almost exactly the same. "Yes. The Red Queen's castle. You said she was a dreadful woman." Her voice was high, and delicate-sounding, but he knew that was her trying to keep him calm. More often than not, she spoke more like him, expressive and excitable and endlessly charming. 

"She was, and she still is. I was on my way back to you when her guards caught me," he said, and his stomach sank when she gasped. They both knew the only way that story could go, but her expectant look urged him to continue. "She told me that she would allow me to leave her land alive if I got something for her. She wanted me to fetch an artifact for her. A map." 

"To where?" Grace asked, putting an arm around his shoulders as she settled herself in his lap. It was a habit of hers when he told one of his many stories. 

"A map to the most powerful magical object ever known to our realm. It was located in a foreign kingdom in our world." He didn't need to speak the name of his new lover's land for her to know exactly what he meant.

She covered her mouth with a slender hand, her mouth agape. "Oh Papa," she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow,"No, you couldn't possibly go there, they would have killed you."

He chuckled a bit, a bitter smile on his face. "I know, sweetie. That's what I told her and it was not what she wanted to hear." He raised a hand to his carefully tied cravat and loosened it, then pulled it off to reveal the scar around his neck. "So she gave me this." 

Grace stared at the scar in horror, then reached to touch it at the command of her morbid curiosity. "Papa," she breathed,"How could you have survived that?"

He shrugged and didn't bother to tie his cravat again. "Magic. That's how it always goes, doesn't it?"

She looked him in the eyes again, sadness in her expression. "Does it still hurt?"

He rubbed her back in circles. "Only sometimes. Don't worry about that, it's all in the past now." 

"What happened next?" her voice got a bit higher with her anxiety. How could this story get worse than her own father having his head cut off?

"I did as she asked. I had to, she threatened to find you because I had brought you so often, and she said she would kill you. Do you remember when I came home later than usual and said I had to go right away again?" He went on when she nodded, "I stowed away on a ship headed for that land filled with criminals, and made my way to the capital. I managed to make it inside the capital building at dawn and I had my hands on the map when I was caught by one of them." He hugged Grace to him when she gasped again and smiled at her. "Don't worry, it wasn't anyone bad. It was a child who found me. A little girl whom I convinced to help me escape with the map. I was leaving when the guards found me."

Grace wrapped his arms around his neck. "Oh Papa, that's terrible," she whimpered.

He closed his eyes and squeezed her for a moment, before he went on. "They were more than furious with me that I had tried to steal from them, and they wanted to kill me, but they decided that wasn't enough. They cursed me to live in this castle with Mr.Rabbit, Cheshire, and the Brown Rabbit alone. They took my magic from me, they took my memories, and they took you." He stumbled a bit over his words at remembering it all. "They told me that the curse would last seventeenn years. That I would be tormented here for over a decade and that you would die if someone didn't come and break it. It took sixteen and a half years for anyone to dare cross the barrier they put around this place and try to help me," his voice cracked, but he managed not to cry again. An invisible rub against his skin let him know that his savior had arrived just in time to help him complete his tale. 

Grace stared at him intently. "Who was it?"

He looked at the doorway and felt his chest tighten again, but in a completely different way than before. He knew the dress he had made would look exquisite on Christine. After all, he considered himself very talented, but seeing her actually wearing it was completely different from his vision. The dark navy of the fabric on top looked so lovely along side her smooth, dark skin, and the sparkles on it complemented the white gold necklace he had never seen her remove. Her beauty could put any queen to shame. Yet, even with that, it wasn't enough. No, she had to be a gods-given gift to everyone she came across with her generosity and boundless grace. 

"The little girl who caught me all those years ago grew up," he said simply, letting go of Grace so she could look behind her. She had to have sensed the presence of such strong magic as he did. 

Christine had her hands settled on the puffy skirt of the dress, her posture perfect and her smile as inviting as ever. "I hope I am not interrupting you," she said in that delicious accented voice of hers. 

Grace looked to her father again, confused. "That's her? But she's a.." she trailed off when she caught herself. She didn't want to rouse the fury of someone so powerful. From what she had heard, Cainanites never meant anything good. They were dangerous. They hated the natives of the Enchanted Forest's real kingdoms, or so it was believed. Grace had never met one before. That alone was enough to rouse her insatiable curiosity.

"Yes, she is." Jefferson answered the unspoken question and jerked his head so Christine would come closer. "But she isn't dangerous," he added, "She's the only reason we're together again. She came here and helped me. She stayed even when I made it difficult for her." He looked up at her, an adoring smile on his face. "She told me she cared and she proved it."

Grace looked up again and tried to look at the Cainanite, no, woman, as her father did. She was certainly pretty. Very pretty. She was tall and her body curved very nicely in the dress she knew her father had made. Her puffy, curly hair made a cloud of ringlets around her head, and Grace found herself caught off guard by her bright green eyes. She was still smiling as well, not visibly insulted by being referred to in a derogatory way. "How did you break the curse, Papa?" she asked him, still staring up at the stranger. She had decided that she liked this woman already.

"I'll answer your question with another question. What magic is powerful enough to break any curse?"

The realization slammed into Grace and had her whipping her head around to look at him. He was smiling. He was smiling in a way that she had almost never gotten to see. He looked so happy. It was rare that he looked that happy. She turned to look back up at the stranger, whose arms were flexing as she kept her hands behind her back, apparently fidgeting. "You love my Papa?" she asked.

The woman nodded. "I do." She took being addressed as her cue to engage more and sat on the floor in front of the two of them. She held out a hand. "You can call me Christine."

Ever eager to make new friends, Grace took her hand, then yanked it back when she felt a bolt of electricity shoot up her arm. Gods, this woman was incredibly powerful. She found herself grateful that she and her father were on this Christine's good side, otherwise she would be terribly scared. "My name is Grace. I'm fourteen."

"That is a lovely name. It suits you," Christine said.

"Thank you. You're the one who saved us?" Grace asked, a shred of disbelief still hanging on.

"You could say that."

Grace tilted her head in the same way her father did when questioning anything. She had always been too smart for her own good. "But didn't your people curse him in the first place?"

Christine nodded, her smile shrinking a bit. "They did, but they went completely overboard. I could not allow them to commit such a terrible injustice, so I had to do something." She paused, then added, "I do not mean to be an intruder. I did not expect to fall in love with your father. He is just a wonderful man. I am sorry you are finding this all out at once, it must be very overwhelming." 

That was a complete understatement, but at least this woman was being polite and considerate. That had to count for something. Grace finally returned her smile. "It is, but I'm not upset at you. I can't remember the last time I saw my Papa this happy. If he thinks that this is a good thing, then so do I." She mirrored the woman's body language and folded her hands in her lap. "Besides, we would both be gone if it wasn't for you. And you didn't have to help, but you did. That says a lot about you."  
Jefferson was beaming from behind his daughter, his eyes darting between them as if he couldn't decide who to stare at adoringly more. "Are you willing to give this a try, my dear? It's up to you." 

Grace looked back at him. "All I need is you, Papa. So long as you're here, I'm willing to try anything." She looked to Christine. "You saved us, that couldn't have been easy. Thank you." Her toothy smile widened and she added without thinking,"Maybe we can all be a family now."

They had all been so close to having none of what they were so thankful for in that moment. Such gifts, a new family, new hope, new love, had not come without a price, however. With magic there was always a price. There was a sacrifice that had been made, one of reverence, of adoration. And that was only in the beginning.


End file.
